Adebukola Ajao
2 min readApr 4, 2016

We was cool bro.

All the laughs, playful punches,

The pretty pink Svedka bottle

You bought me when I beat you

At the bowling alley.

It was all a plot wasn’t it?

Meet her

Greet her

Appease her


Beat her.

Now, Cry yourself a river.

Sex with you?

Never would I ever.

Before you tried to rape me,

I imagined you a brother.

I. You put all your weight on me.

You’re just a brother undercover.

I died twice inside.

The mere sight of you

Made baby Clarissa cry.

I should have seen the signs.

How many times should

I scream “Stop!?”

I knew I couldn’t call no cops.

They would’ve came through

And blasted your brains,

Or threw you in the house of pain.

Then I would’ve been the one to blame,

For circulating black bodies

Into this damned system.

II. You stabbed my vagina with your stubby fingers.

You looked me right into the

Pupil of my eyes

And YOU we’re going to rape me

Like a plaything!

Did you not see,

Laying before you

More precious than gold,

A child of a King?

III. You forcibly kissed my succulent lips.

You hailed me a Queen

But treated me like a peasant.

You sold your eyes

To the devil for visors.

Hades awaits you.

Funny, you did everything

‘Cept take me on that mean ride

To hell.

Where women are traumatized,

Broken, distressed,

Suicidal, silenced.

IV. You bruised my velvety skin with your dreadful hands.

You stole from my cookie’s jar

And not enough “sorries”

In this lifetime can fix that.

You call yourself a rasta man?


You betrayed my trust.

Now I Know:

Never confide in a man that

Can’t roll a blunt!

You Judas, you Brutus.

The curse of the based god

Shall come upon you.

V. You grabbed my locs.

Lies are believable when you reiterate

Them long enough.

“Calm down”

When your hand slipped under

My nightwear.

“You’re so freaky”

When I repeatedly

Punched you in the head.

“Stop it!”

When I screech

For you to get off me.

“Just give me a minute.”

A minute for your metamorphosis

As your locs turned into snakes.

Your eyes bulged outwards.

Saliva filled the corner of

Your mouth.

Johnny Maddog style.

VI. You pulled down your pants.

With no plans to wear


And right before the pelvic thrust

I broke free,

Barely relieved,

Started having anxiety.

I was under attack,

now, by my own body.

And all I could conjure up

in that moment:

I was brutally not raped.

You lost your right to be Haitian.

You’re just a beast of no nation.