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Writer's pictureRussell Jacklin

Pleasure, not Pain


The bitterness of a chilly night

His heart was unfathomably cold

He would show her.

He wouldn’t beseech her, he would teach her

She would not spurn him again


She walked briskly,

Blind to her imminent fate

She walked alone

Her thick coat pulled tight against the ravages of this night

She’d soon be home, safe and warm


Without warning, he pulled her into the alley

She struggled against his strength

Forced against the wall, then pushed to the ground

Her plaintive cries unheard, he uttered not a word

She was oblivious to the man behind the mask


His actions were uncontrollably brutal

Sexually violated, left helpless, injured and alone

Cold, bruised, and bleeding,

Her mind raced, thinking this was her disgrace,

She cried out, but nobody came.


He had ripped away her underwear

Torn, beastlike, at her shirt and skirt

Her long coat now offered her only protection

Rising uneasily, covering her unsolicited indecency,

She stumbled onto the street


There were very few people around

Her mobile phone lay smashed where it fell

Crumbling, she lost her footing, fell helplessly to the ground

Gawpers avoided this bedraggled, dirty-looking beggar

Crossing over the road, they hastened away,


The next morning, they found her dead

All alone, face down in the street

The savagery of his attack

Broke her spirit and her desire to survive

His penis murdered her, as surely as a knife


There is only one answer to this injustice

We must stand together against gender abuse

Don't look away, or be silent about the violence

Everyone must rise, shout loud and proud

A man's pleasure is not worth a woman's pain


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