To the pleas for caution and moderation

We are being too harsh, it seems.
To extreme. Too quick
To judge;
Judge Aquilina was too mean.
What about forgiveness,
The worried men on every screen
Wring their hands and ask of us:
“When can we expect redemption?
Asking for a friend.”

Honestly?
You tell me.

What do you think is a fitting sentence
For a grown man’s dick shoved in my face
When I was barely three years old?
What is the price justice demands
For a teenage girl behind a dumpster,
Torn, unconscious, tossed like trash?

How many years will make up for it
When girls are murdered for saying no
And everyone says we’re asking for it?
What penance would you say “paid in full!” to?
What is the right amount of time?

What will it take to balance the sheets,
Wipe out the red,
Settle the score?

A hundred years for each of your victim’s tears.
More.

When do you think I’ll feel less raped?
I say let the punishment fit the crime.

If I never get to turn back the clocks,
If I live my life as another #MeToo,
If I don’t get to forget what you did,
Then neither do you. Neither do you.