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I hate that you did that to me

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I hate that you did that to me
A strange man in his prime,

I hate that I became self-conscious at an age where I should’ve been free-spirited and played around like the rest of the kids.
I hate how I try not to move and shake too much as that might bring the wrong attention or how I hate my blossom because it makes me ‘very obvious’.

I hate how I became shy and scared even of my father, I just couldn’t let him hug me like he used to.
I hate how I was, but a girl child that hadn’t sprouted yet and I didn’t even know you so till this day I become defensive to even the nicest of strangers.

I hate how I blamed myself for going swimming that day and dread the waters that I know I loved and still love so much.
I hate knowing that there are people who have gone through even worse and couldn’t say a thing about it like me.

I hate how I didn’t understand what had happened but still felt filthy or how I usually wriggled away and mum told me off as they wanted to give me a pat on my back when the older men came to visit, she still didn’t see the fear in my eyes.

I hate how I feel the need to talk a lot to show comfort with sex so I don’t seem like the naive girl.
I hate how I’d once loved and trusted one with my story but he almost did the same thing again and I hated even the thought of ‘love’.
I hate how he could have the best intentions with me but a lack of trust still lingers and Istart to believe he has the worst of them.

I hate how I want to be but am scared of the thought of becoming one with the one because every touch feels threatening in my head even though every part of me wants to share my soul with him.
I hate how I’m having a great day with him and then flashbacks flood my mind and I can’t handle them nor him.
I hate how telling him this tale could make him scared to love me.

I hate that sometimes I feel irritated in my own body and take the longest of baths as if it would somehow make me ‘pure’ again,

…I hate that I’m  b r o k e n.

by Zainab* @grande_persona

*She also an amateur photographer, the header of this piece is a gorgeous picture she took.

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Sun Child

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It wasn’t always this way, 

there used to be laughter and sunshine. 

There was dance and play and rhythm all my own. 

Mother called us children of the sun, 

beaming and gleaming always,

Taking in every breath and every wave, we soared. 

 

My rays are long gone, my allure far removed,

Taken by force repeatedly leaving me confused. 

Each time more jarring than the last,

 more shadows added to my past. 

Cold and shattering; the long night seems without an end. 

 

“Don’t cry now dear child; 

Don’t let the sun see tears shed”,

Mother’s words ring hollow now

as night has taken hold of the child,

The shine is no more, I smile no longer. 

 

They have killed the sun child. 

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