A Statistic

How quickly they forget me, yesterday’s news, when they heard of how terribly I was raped,
Beaten and left for dead, in an alley, while walking home.
How quickly they came to offer my parents their symphathies and me their pitiful looks.
The policemen, the doctors, the religious man and even the Mayor.
All offering advice and help.
How eagerly they spoke to the news lady in her dress suite and high heels,
promising to help find the monster who did this to me.
But, just as quickly they forgot.
Too consumed with their own lives.
Nowhere in sight when I needed a lift to the hospital for more tests and pep talks from doctors and social workers.
Nowhere in sight when the doctor said “ YOU’RE PREGNANT! Do you want to keep It or get rid of it?” Damned if I do and damned if I don’t.
So quick to judge my family struggling to cope, falling apart at the seams.
No therapy for their pain or my empty soul.
How quickly they forget me, as they see my growing belly and swollen feet,
trying to do the right thing for the one who too didn’t ask for this to happen.
For now, I’m like the ones who came before me,
those that will come after me
And those just like me.
A Statistic.


  1. WOW!

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