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“I WAS ABUSED! I WAS A VICTIM OF ABUSE. HE SPIT SPUT, DOGGED MY SPINE, DAMAGED MY RIB, PUNCHED MY FACE, RIPPED MY CLOTHES OFF. MOURNED ON MY BODY, SQUEEZED MY SKIN, PIMPED AND POUNDED THROUGH IT, CUT MY HYMEN INTO TINY PIECES OF FLESH, GONG GONG THE CATHOLIC BELL. RUN THROUGH ME, POISED AND MY BACK WAS HIS BRIDGE. PRUNED MY UNRIPE SKIN, FETISH ON MY SKIN I WAS THERE WATCHING HIM. SEPARATED FROM MY BODY AND SOUL. A VINE WITH OUT FLAVOR THAT WHAT HE LEFT. A VINE WITHOUT TASTE THAT WHAT HE LEFT.” — Tapiwanaishe Pamacheche
I WAS ABUSED!
I WAS A VICTIM OF ABUSE. HE SPIT SPUT, DOGGED MY SPINE, DAMAGED MY RIB, PUNCHED MY FACE, RIPPED MY CLOTHES OFF.
MOURNED ON MY BODY,
SQUEEZED MY SKIN, PIMPED AND POUNDED THROUGH IT, CUT MY HYMEN INTO TINY PIECES OF FLESH, GONG GONG THE CATHOLIC BELL.
RUN THROUGH ME, POISED AND MY BACK WAS HIS BRIDGE.
PRUNED MY UNRIPE SKIN, FETISH ON MY SKIN I WAS THERE WATCHING HIM.
SEPARATED FROM MY BODY AND SOUL.
A VINE WITH OUT FLAVOR THAT WHAT HE LEFT.
A VINE WITHOUT TASTE THAT WHAT HE LEFT.