RapeFear

What will I do when my time
comes to lie split-melon on the 
wet pavement?

When the dice of anger roll 
my number and I am picked 
to suffer this
most intimate of slaughters 
and my screams
are stoppered by empty night,
what will I do?

I have heard the statistics 
and the life-saving tips,
yet when these fail me, I wonder 
if I will go a weeping bride or
a dead one to his rough ministrations -
for find me he will  And I do not know
what I will do.

So I live each chill evening as if 
it will never happen, 
as if he was behind every scant bush 
and hard steel car 
waiting for me -
I walk as if I fear nothing, 
my hand in my pocket holding my knife.  
I live my twilight life 
knowing only that when 
my turn comes 
I will carve my revenge in his ribs 
and hard cheeks as he forces 
his anger 
on my tender flesh.

Melissa D. Benjamin's Questions:

Is the imagry in this piece strong enough? 

Too strong?

Do the lines breaks make sense?