It wasn't my fault

I told her to keep her mouth shut and her legs open.

As I lightly choked her, sliding my sweaty palms under her uniform, she looked at me, scared and tearful. Hers hands resisting, grabbed onto my arms, trying to make me stop. She was so weak and helpless,I watched.

I almost couldn’t bear the thought of how lustful and lonely, I was.

I had a tight grip on her. Desperately, I presented to her my most barbaric asset. Her silent cries squeaked. With her legs wrapped around my torso, I lifted her small, weak body. Aggressively, I forced my hard shaft deep. Wide eyed, it was as if she was watching a puppy being gruesomely slaughtered right in front of her. I didn’t care,I wanted to have her so bad. I was simply indulging on my prey. Shaking, she bled and cried.

She was the quiet one in class. Her voice is only often heard through sketching papers and pastel colored crayons. The bulletin board has been pasted with pieces of her. She made everyone around her looked so happy. It was as if they were her empty canvases, and she painted her own smiles on them. Her father, stood tall and strong. He never seemed so proud.

If only she knew

How mother always picked him

How I’ll never be loved as much as brother.

How brother left me with scars and bruises

I did not want to be pressured into their values. Their voices can make this room feel so small.

If only everyone knew, how I felt. I did not asked to have this thirst for young flesh. I did not asked to be this alone and empty. I did not wish to feel so trapped under my own skin.

But I had to take her, brother

Away from people like you

Soft as it can be, her skin. These girls. I felt it right before it goes cold. I tasted it right before it’s gone. Struggling, she was. These girls. I couldn’t stand to let them go. It pains me to watch them drift away. Crayons, she was. These girls. They have made art of me, igniting my dull shades and gave me colors I’ve long to have.

However, for these girls, my brushes were way too sharp and my palate had only the colour red.

…

My brother will never love her as much as I did.

I had pieces of her scattered in only on the softest surface. This bed, I hope, brings waves of the fondest dreams, sinking her down ever so gently.

She was too soft for this earth. These girls were too soft for this earth.

I wish someone was as kind to me