Dramatic Theory Poem by Yolanda Mbatha

I got first row tickets to a show I’m still underage to view
Only I was not the offender but a victim that belonged to you
Put on stage, forced to improvise
“Put a smile on your face” one would advise
an optimist I am thought out to be
to my world; a dark room on a cold night would be your key
to know me, to see me
to realise you’re glad u ain’t me
a ho I may be labelled
Or invisible, might as well be dead
Oh the pain between my adolescent legs
“Please; take my life with you too” the actress begs
Almost 5years down the line
Virginity just never was mine
“At least the pain has faded” one would say
But in my heart it will always lay
Crying with No Sound is the title of this play
Mere characterization one might presume
A jubilant teenager another might assume
But the truth is difficult to imagine
With of course one single exception
An actress previously thrown into the deep-end
Left with scars in the heart that never will mend
She shall convey with anything but rudimentary skills
She being I, the teenager who when ill, needs not pills
She being I, whose aches are measured not with tape
She being I, just another victim of rape