I was only a child, really, with a right to be protected. Cherished even. Before I could blink, my head whipped back as my neck rotated. My young skin etched with a searing pain. I was pushed into complicity and wished my life away. Not yet double digits of age and already the wrath of man written on me. A fear of man’s temper and what it can do.
Tag abuse
Devil’s Child
You are the devil’s child
You are a bitch
So ugly when you were born
There is no way you could be my child
If you would like to find a man
Perhaps you should wear some makeup
Show some cleavage
Show that body we know you have
Why are my eyes blue
When yours are brown?
What will happen
If I do things that do not please you?
The temper, the rage, a fear of man
Are written in my soul
It is not guns I need to fear
When a man and his bare hands are all that’s required
Poems and Petals 