BladeBreaker
First the loud shushes, next the false names
then the hidden bruises: all the excuses that defame.
This seeping bloodstain can never stop
Or be washed out. Or be left to clot,
Maybe afterwards start to heal: instead it bleeds through
each cloth and bandage that should staunch it anew.
Girls, women, daughters and sisters
Aunts, cousins, nieces, mothers
Silenced sons, brothers, fathers all atone
All cry, comfort, hold each other, or are left standing alone.
Until the first man the one meant to continue it,
draws back and unsheathes his knife,
thinks I'll hold myself back today and just blunt it
Until he chooses best rather than least and snaps the blade in two.