32.2 C
Accra

Dragged

Published:

feel as light as a feather
My emotions seems to fly at any wind blowing direction…
I just can’t hold and control.
My screams are explosive and loud,
But no one ever wants to hear me out…
They claim they never heard me shout.

Anger boils through my heart with rage.
Piercing out with some partial self hate.
I’m being cuddled by fear and hurt and shame…
There’s so much to this pain.
But I just do my best to block this negativity out,
I’m almost numb to it…

I’ve been tortured and raped…
Each day he comes around,
His hard presence always feels closer and deeper.
Tearing fabrics like he is King Kong or some character from a vampire or possessed movie…
Pain pumping through my veins,
My heart beats sounds as good as the beats by *Drey* Like audible as connected to a Bluetooth device…
And 10 times faster.
My mouth is being covered, so is my breathe.
There’s always sweat and a package of goose bumps,
I always have to beg for his Mercy…

Don’t look at me like that, I promise I mean it…

And for the past years, I have been a slave to my memories…
Whipped and molested repeatedly,
Day after night…

Come on,
Society judged me
You judged me…
You beat my ears with your mouth,
But some days, the side effects of this mouth to ear thing recks me…
Cos you have no idea where I have been and what I’ve been through.
And for your info,
There’s nothing fun about doing something you never wish to be doing but have to,
Just to keep you alive and far away from the everyday pain…

I Know my dressing gives you the conclusive impression that,
*”She’s just a hore”*
And like other exposed women, I’m nothing.
But you don’t have to be wrong about that.
After all you never listened anyway.
And what’s the point in protecting what’s already broken…
I mean hiding what’s already stolen…
The flesh that’s already destroyed…
Well!

If only these bruises would show on my skin,
Like a three days old unfinished tattoo,
You would see just how much I hurt inside.
I have lost my identity at the tip of your tongues…
Who I thought I was and would be has been slowly drifted into the back pockets of insecurities…

And once again, I stand in front of the mirror and I ask my self,
*”How did I get here?”*

This side is suffocating me…
I’m in the middle of this street and no one can see me die…
Drowning in my tears and no one can see me cry…
I’m lost in my shadow no matter how hard I try…

I’m hungry for believe,
Starving to be understood…
I crave for freedom,
Yelling for justice…

I wanna pass out,
I wanna die,
Fade away
And maybe by that, I will be heard
And I will be *free*

Related articles

spot_img

Recent articles

spot_img