This Voice,

Ate my words,
I'd lost them.
It was the boy who was
too lanky,
too  small,
too   young,
too    pure
and probably too much the theatre teacher's son
to harass me.

I lost my cool
Something I (incorrectly) learned that,
Not only I shouldn't do
But can't
Do.

He played it off
hehehe, 'I only wanted a hug!'
Loud enough for all to hear
My body
Absorbed my words. I
soaked them up
then ate my feelings.
Nobody defended me
Not even I defended me,
In fact

A person I wish I could call a friend
in this situation
but cannot,
Egged me on to accept his grope
He played it off too-
'What kind of friend are you to deny a hug?'

I used to want to die when I thought of this
and the similar instances
this would be on the beginning slant of
for harassment to come.

But poetry did not let me die.
Poetry taught me
that none of these sad events are illusions
I am not alone in what I see and feel
This flesh may naturally die and rebuild forever,
But it is not meant to take damage all the time.
this voice and every voice is holy.
Hell, here it is now
Relaying to you my tales
and that there are times I am well within my right
To lose my damn cool.