With the rise of the judge
the room clatters with voices,
some angry, few applauding
and one weeping.
She’s branded as another statistic
who bares witness to her demon.
The man walks with a mere slap on the wrist,
the blaring memories of his touch coming back
to crush her throat,
to linger on her skin,
grabbing and scratching at her breasts, all of her flesh,
Tearing down all her clothes that could not protect.

A stinging pain brings her back from the past,
Her nails digging into her palms.
She sits,the void in her soul grows,

consumes each curve,

jails the air from her lungs,
Until a thousand needles cage her words,
Trapping her in the moment she was taken.
The moment she stepped through the door
The moment she saw her legs,
pine needles sticking to the drip of her red.

The justice she seeks is a mere fantasy never meant to be,
The excuse being,
“the man has a bright future while yours is unsightly.”
Closing her eyes, remaining still,
she attempts to lock away her memories,
her recalled screams that drive her mad
but they return stronger,
mocking and dancing around her head,
Cutting down all the courage
to have him jailed,
to have him punished,
to have justice bring down its hammer upon his head.

But no, instead the predator strolls through
the halls of justice unscalthed with his dirt leather Oxfords
Not bothered,
Not punished
Not fazed.
And as he glances over his shoulder
At the sight of her figure,
A smug smile tugs at his lips.
He straightens his back
and out the door he goes.

Oh but wait.
I hear the opposition of the ignorant,
I hear the exclaims of “fem-nazis” fabricating such tales,
Exclaims that not all men are monsters.
That those deemed feminist cry in accusation of an issue nonexistent.
That those deemed  feminist care not for men,
Unfairly and conceited enough to play the victim.
And yet,
When it’s a man who has been touched,
other’s scoff and discourage the boy from report,
for a man could never be taken by another.
If so, he is weak.
If so, he is pathetic.
If so, he is not a man.
If so, he was not raped
but instead given a chance to enjoy a sense of pleasure
Because rape is never to be acknowledged.

Now wait just a moment,
Allow me to speak the facts that one would so willingly dismiss
Rape culture is not a myth but instead a true monstrosity
Created to oppress
To forfeit the rights of a human being,
To say a simple touch, a simple stare is nothing to be alarmed of,
To say that the sight of one’s breasts is an invitation,
To force down another for one to ascended higher,
To say consent is both a yes and no,
The no a yes, so consent is a mere yes and yes
Yes,
Yes,
Yes,
Yes,
No.