i am not a poet

slut

it happens in the blink of an eye.
you go to bed seven.
your parents kiss you on the forehead
and tuck you in.
you wake up seventeen,
in a strangers bed.
unaware of what happened that night.
but you're the only one.
the video of you has already been around,
it's been all over twitter for hours now.
you have a label.
"slut."
and you can't do anything about it.
only wish you were seven again.
being kissed on the forehead
by your parents.
knowing your dad could fight
off the monster under the bed.
now you're fending for yourself.
trying to kill the one inside of you.