Syria and the Vagina Monologues

Syria Using Rape as weapon against opposition women and men

” ….

My vagina was green water, soft pink fields, cow mooing, sun resting, sweet boyfriend, touching lightly with a soft piece of blonde straw.

There is something between my legs. I don’t know what it is. Not now, not anymore, not since. 

My vagina was chatty, can’t wait, so much saying, word talking, can’t quit trying. Can’t quit saying, “yes, yes,”

.. Not since I dream there is a dead animal sewn in down there with thick black fishing line. And the bad dead animal smell cannot be removed, and its throat is slit, and it bleeds through all of my summer dresses.

My Vagina singing all girl songs, all goat bell ringing songs, all wild autumn field songs, vagina songs, vagina home songs.

.. not since the soldiers put a long, thick rifle inside of me. So cold, the steel rod canceling my heart. Don’t know wether they’re gonna fire it, or shove it through my spinning brain. Six of them, with black masks shoving bottles up me too. There were sticks, and the end of a broom. 

My vagina swimming river water, clean. spilling water over sun-baked stones.

.. Not since I heard the skin tear, and made lemon screeching sounds. Not since a piece of my vagina came off in my hand, now one part of the lip, one side of the lip is completely gone.

My vagina, a live, wet, water village. My vagina was once my hometown, not since they took turns, they took turns for seven days. Smelling like feces and smoked meat. They left their dirty sperm inside of me. And I became a river of poison and pus, and all the crops died, and the fish. My vagina; a live, wet, water village. They invaded it. They butchered it. And burned it down. I do not touch now. I do not visit. I live someplace else now. I don’t know where that is. 


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