Chudi stood in front of the class and read the piece he wrote. “Write from your heart,” the teacher said.
“If I broke your heart, I’m not sorry; I was simply doing to another as they had done to me. I pay forward the good, the bad, and the ugly. Ain’t that what we always say, take me as I am- part broken, part whole; or don’t take me at all.
What a man can do, a woman can do better, including rape. But this ain’t a piece about boys raped by women. It’s about men raped by men. Boys who come home to a splutter of cum on their bed and without being told know it’s an invitation to be eaten. Arse ate well. But is it good if it’s against my will? What “Will” is good? Not even Jada’s.
What is a man with a broken anus? What is a man with a broken spirit? When a sanitary pad is a thoughtful gift to receive, what shred of manhood is left??? What even is manhood? Did I ever have it? I think I did because I remember when I was not weary of sitting with them boys. Then I gave a firm handshake with a flash of the superficial vein. Not anymore. So, when did I lose it? I think we all know.
But I didn’t lose it. It was stolen. By a “one” like me. One I called father. One who swore to protect me. One whose name and memory I now curse but it’s all bullshit now cause I’m taking back my place in this world. The top where I belong and to be all that he wasn’t to me. To protect these now and always for what is man but God on earth, defender of this realm, the conqueror of all that Adam named.”
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🤍