Two legs spread across the the quad corners of a room
“If these walls could talk”

Foolish boys with gyrating dicks, skin thick leaves
No room for screams to be heard

“They aint stopping until her pussy is fed”

Fed up of the resilience of “toxic masculinity”
Her legs weakens to give in
“sometimes giving in doesn’t mean you’ve given up”
Every dick is eager to enter this pussy uninvited
So she prays that her virginity turns into a snake to bite them
“But God doesn’t show up on time on our terms”
These boys unwrapped a beautiful gift which was never meant for them for a long time before they said “Its a wrap”
 
Can blame it on the rap
Can blame it on lets say the trap
Blame it on everything but the victim
Blame it on the radio and the Tv, they cough sexual immoralities like TB
And misguided youth listens
So this is where the plot thickens
We all know whats happening is sickening
Because when her body was left bruised with blood like a neglected canvas of an immature landscape artist
She swore to never trust a man again
“if love is a butter and men are the bread
She wouldn’t spread”
Her anger is on a thin thread
 
When she enters the bathhouse to bath,
For minutes, its her pussy she wants to shred
She needs no water,
“what’s tap water to the body when the body as been permanently cleansed with all the tears shed?”
 
And imagine when she shared her ordeal
All the bullshit she heard
She doesn’t need the whole world to tell her is wasn’t her fault
She needs only one person and that’s her by default
But she wouldn’t believe herself
 
She is now counted as a statistic