13th June 2018
Listen everyone
All the metoos
And the spectators
And the monsters
What’s the fucking solution?
I hear these whispers around
In hushed tones
Within bands of sealed confidences
the lines crossed
and the gaze that lingered still
there was a protest
cries of defiance
but no shame, not even a hint – the gaze lingers
the father who shuns his son’s bride
the uncle whose daughter is now his niece’s age
we’re watching, we know
but still we serve the tea
and share the joke
he’s a family man
he bullied and tried to hump a minor
he’s an affectionate man
his hand went up his son’s girlfriend top
he’s the life of a party
he flashed his dick to a five year old
they whispered
they cried
they were hushed
they were shushed
and when they asked why?
You asked for it
You’re a whore
One can’t clap with a single hand
Shut up, you’ll be the one shamed
She was five, he was fifteen
She asked for it
She was 10, he was 25
She asked for it
She was 25, he was 50
She asked for it
They grew up
Holding dear their dried tears safe within their own hearts
Their mothers made tea for the monsters
Served it with their favourite snacks
They were made to bow down in respect
To the same men who showed them disrespect
They heard their praises
Tolerated their presence
Cringing within
Every time
Whose the victim?
Whose the monster?
Where’s the verdict?
The victims committed the crime
The monsters were framed
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