Sometimes, they smell awfully sweet,
but upon closer inspection,
angry stench of unborn life
swelters in the depths thereof.
O, capricious youth, you who
cavort with unassuming men;
beguiling with soft faces, and growths
that do not sustain you.
Oh, but you will use your gift
to tempt him; and when you are
brought back to a realization of
how close he comes to taking
what you wanted to make him
believe you were offering,
Quickly!  Away!  Hide from the
monster you created!
Call to the God of mercy
to protect you from your
self created seduction.

As he creeps closer to the
emptiness that yearns
to be filled, then your defenses
are raised, and trap him so
close to yourself, even alone
you feel his torturous grasp.
And look for help among the
multitudinous articles published
for at risk girls,
and the advertisements
shape your malleable mind
with images of lust,
and there is no help there.

And as you grow, it seems
so easy to tie those men
with flaxen thread to your
prodigious fingers. Marionettes you make them,
glued to your chest with
adhesive so strong that
even in your anger, you
cannot sever them completely.
And would you be lost
without him?  You gave up
your self-sufficiency when you began to rely
on that sweet, sweet smell
from a man-made source
to cover the stench of yourself.

Note: You may think, after reading this, that I consider all rape vicitims to have been "asking for it," and that a woman's place is only in the kitchen, and all that backward thinking.  Nothing could be further from the truth.  This piece came from a place of "devil's advocate," or "trying to walk in their shoes."  I know our world is made up of all kinds of people, and sometimes I just get the itch to think, "what are they thinking about?" :-)