Rape . . .

She sits, no
She hides in the corner
Behind the wreck he left for them
Trembling
Consumed in fear till her hair
Turns ghostly white

They were watching, yes
They were enjoying the show
He put on for them
Compelled by their power-driven minds
They consume.

Blank Faces . . .

We sit
Blank faces in our chairs
Our lives spin in a blur
Of years hours miles
Everywhere we are leaving prints
A biological tracing system
Left for everyone to find
But our blank faces
Remain unchanged