Alone and helpless
she walks into a room
with stares burning through her flesh.
One notions her over
and in a second of hope
her dreams of acceptance
are crushed
as he whispers words her ears were awaiting:
"Slut."

Isn't a slut promiscuous,
while she was pure?
Isn't a slut sexual,
while she was in what seemed to be eternal solitude?
Isn't a slut someone else,
or was it her?

She turns away from the boy,
the screen greeting her with a black void in return,
unknowing of what lies ahead of her.

Innocent little girl
only fourteen years of age
with unstraightened curls and undying rage
You are not what they accuse you to be.
You are yourself, promising and pure.
Just because you are unique,
Child
Just because you are the only one one of your kind,
in that sea of ungrown men,
doesn't mean you are the insidious slanders they label you with

Slut.
Slut.
SLUT.

She doesn't know it yet,
she still sails a ship alone on that lonely sea,
that sweet little thing.
Slut? No.
You are simply a girl.