Death of Reason
With you, my dear, I always play a balancing act with my lies or sparse truth.
Either way, I must balance my words to give you the impression that I am in love with you. But you squashed that prerogative the night you brutally raped me. Do you remember? The clouds had been dark all day with strong winds that rattled our tin roof till my teeth chattered.
Should I jog your underfed memory? In the night, when you drunkenly staggered into bed and roughly pulled at my waist cloth I knew that I had to feed your desire once more. But this time, I pleaded. The last child was only a week old. I was still sore from the birth; still bleeding. But you had to have it. You slapped me and tore my cloth and had your way. You plundered till you could plunder no more. And the heavens wept copiously with me, aghast.
Oh, how dearly I detest you. With each breath, a palpable fear chokes me. Of committing murder. Will the scales balance then?with each breath reason dies in brutish soul I cry rape