My first time, I found myself raped, strapped down on sterilized floors Once stinking of stinking flesh and dried blood of bodies past, Sedated by bitter pink pills, I fell into a foggy coma, Unaware of the sleep that would tame me to satiate their desires for plump suppleness, All smiles and complacent contentment. After that night, I curled up in my own warm -- then loose -- womb, Cuddling and rocking myself in recovery. I searched for my innocence again, having been forged into a woman before I was even a girl. I lost my sleep and forfeited my dreams to the thoughts of men seeking a sweet and untouched girlhood Dressing me in red satin, Fucking me on a floor of red petals and cheap cologne. Drugging me with milk and sour injections. When I returned from my stupor, I saw the faces of my perpetrators viewing my pearl broken from its oyster, They walked away in disappointment, Having had their fill, satisfied with their victory. My first time was a cloudy memory, Obscured by anonymous, impersonal encounters. We never spoke again of those times, Never made eye contact in the open streets, Sometimes I can't believe this happening, Convincing myself that it was a mere dream -- no reality. My first time was a rape, And now I seek escape from its memory. My first time made me a one-night, perfumed, cheap whore, Sold for the satisfaction of faceless men. It shall never be spoken of again -- The innocence never existed, and yet was sought and exploited.