Vengeance Is Mine... Poem by Crystal Tutson

In the middle of the night the predator seeks his prey.
He's ready to penetrate her freshness; he's giddy, he's gay.

She's a 12 year old georgia peach that's never been bruised.
He's a 40 year old man he's on auto-pilot or cruise.

He reaches her doorway as she silently slumbers,
not knowing she's in the world; the covers, down under.

She's awaken with a hand covering her screaming mouth.
He's afraid but he doesn't leave, no one heard him, no doubt.

Without protection he enters her abruptly and rough.
Not caring about her virgin-ness, he pounds it tough.

She's scared of her uncle but she's even more scared of being caught.
To fathom the feeling of her blood causing her blood, who would've thought.

After 5 minutes of pleasure for him and a lifetime of her pain,
she sees the world as black, dismal, full of nastiness and disdain.

She cries from the thought that God had left her alone.
He completely left her, no where in the room, God was gone.

She felt the need to ask God so she fell on her knees to pray.
She was so confused that she asked for an eternal lay.

God lifted her head and told her to fret not.
He's the creator of the world, everything he begot.

God gave her the assurance that vengeance would be in his hands.
The predator left the room feeling good about himself; feeling like a man.

He took some steps and fell quickly face to the floor.
Life as he knew it would be no more.

A heart attack took him out at the age of 40.
No more creeping in his nieces' room having a virgin party.