I lay down even though scared,
Pretending that I had slept,
While I took caution to shield my legs,
With my short fiery animal-printed skirt.

Alas, it wouldn’t even bend,
To my very own will at best,
It kept rising up my length,
To the top of my laps, wielding its own strength.

I looked from my right to my left,
And I saw that he hadn’t ever left,
He held his sword just by the helm,
He had sworn to protect me against any theft.

But as I lay on my side and felt his breath,
I wondered if there was ever any truth to his words,
“Does he even know that I’m still kept?”
I gave out a sharp cry and wept.

Day 8 of 100.

7 thoughts on “Defiled.

  1. Hmm, I guess no one can really be trusted, not even the knight in shiny armour.
    Yet, dear child, why did thou visit a man with an easily agitated sword dressed in a short skirt hanging delicately by your fair thigh?
    And you just cowered and whimpered while he breathed warm, moist air on your neck without a fight?
    We are sorry though, we are sorry your trust was betrayed and you emerged “unkept” and unkempt from that forgettable encounter.?

    1. Not one person, my dear.
      See where my trust issues spring forth?

      You just had to point the skirt part out, heedriz.
      You just had to.

      I was “outnumbered” btw.
      And the bravest thing for me to do was to cry.
      Feeble me.

      Sorry? Oh, don’t be.
      We have learnt.
      We have learnt that y’all just want the cookie no matter the facade.

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