I look myself in the mirror,
As I touch my face
Empty eyes,sunken cheeks and chapped lips,
The scratches on red skin
The burning sensation of the dead passion,
I thought, thought and thought
What I might have said to them?
To the uncle whose hand went under my skirt,
To the old man who groped me on bus,
To the brother who unzipped his pants
To the ex who forced himself on me,
I shake my head snapping out...