What is it to be virginal? Pure?
I ask myself these question as I assess my proverbial rape
And am overtaken by such a dirty feeling that I can not wash it away

This flesh wound is a burden to my soul
I must free myself from this stigma
So I begin to dig away at my skin

Layer by Layer I expose myself
The air stings my tender body,
Fresh and Pink and New to this World!

But I stare at the reflection of a face that I do not recognize
And Can't Stand to Look At

I dig my nails into my face
Exclaiming, "I will not be your victim!"
I frantically rip it away piece by piece
Dropping it into the basin below
Its white porcelain now covered in blood

I let out a sigh of relief and catch my breath
No longer can I be silenced by your threats

But how will I explain this to the world?
The world that looks at me and is disturbed,
Seeing only a distorted figure

How will I tell them that this has made me pure
That this has made me whole?