Raped, ravished, and beaten,
he sat in mourning over verses gone unheard,
she had taken all there was to take of him,
used his body, beat him thin.
And when he speaks, he goes unheard,
the wishes, the trusts, the ghost inferred
only be, ever be, an act he truly wanted,
A man he is, so there she is, a women of desire.
He is not a victim, for he is the victimizer,
he can not be oppressed because white faced he takes the higher.
She a wicked person of ill-regard,
a violent act she perfected as an art, and he wanted it,
wanted so deeply,
seeking, he let her, she tore him and beat him.
Raped, ravished, all to his fault,
no clinic, no women, no man for that matter,
could aid him or heal him or come to his call.
He was the mourner of lost innocence,
guided by visions not ever were his
she took his power though power was his,
a white male for hire gun never his.
She took him, and beat him, and raped him for days,
but the story of his survival will never make the front page,
for his sorrows and cries go unheard by the masses,
for this man is a man and he gains from these actions,
he wanted it, he asked for it, he begged her to stop.
He cried for it, he mourns it, he drinks emptiness in shots.
They’ll never find him, no never hear him,
for he is man, and man does not cry,
he is stronger, he is wicked, he will pay for this crime.
And there she sits, so innocent, awaiting his submissive cries.
It is not his fault, not his debt, though the world refuses to take a stand.
He is victim, he is rape, a face too unfamiliar,
and it is just, he is a he, and there is always something bigger.
For she is fragile, he is strong, she raped him that can’t be wrong,
if it is he made his bed, he takes the blame for her pretty head
she is victim in this place
his kind having fallen from grace.
She is victim putting him back into his place.