Uncomfortable touch leaving me impotent
Effaced every purity known of men
Rending every beauty believed of juvenile
How charismatic my little flesh can be, calling a grown man to deflower me
Like a hunting spider preying on a defenseless infant
Sending chills to paralyse my small spinal cord
With pains lingering in every inch of me
I still see his angry face every time I close my eyes
Someone I considered a father robbed me so violently of my youth my innocence
A painted picture so indelible and stable left for everyone to see
Oh I will never be the same but like death this too shall pass
If I tell mom that is good as calling an early grave
Maybe he had to he feed us all
Or maybe it was the hunger exposed within me
They say poverty can be so possessive
Such an atrocity stain left for everyone to tantalise
He said I deserved it I seduced him gave him ideas
By how I dress up and carry my self perhaps
Maybe if we dress more they would stop!
Maybe if we cringe and be reverent
But what about that 90-year-old woman in a petticoat?
What about that 5-month-old baby in a diaper?
Is it their fault too like us generation of revelation?
Or it just fascinates you hearing her cry, imploring you to stop?
I guess having a vagina is a curse