Herstory

I waved flags to catch their attention -
I was only four,
sitting on dusty floors,
scratching out letters on papers,
reading full books
seeing inside souls,
and I didn't know
how to process or verbalize,
what was caught inside.

I cried angrily to make then notice,
I was only seven,
Sitting at the entrance of hell,
waif of a girl in a washed out shell,
drawing faces on cardboard,
with broken pencils,
and they made me discard them,
because clutter was not allowed.

I spat putrid liquid into their faces,
I was only ten,
skipping about the mouth of lion dens,
while she pretended,
that I was normal,
only possessed by demons,
God would be my freedom,
and I couldn't give much thought, you see,
I traveled my childhood in fantasy,
escape the invasive insinuations
of religious damnation.

I smiled at their failures to taunt their hatred,
that neither man nor demon could destroy my created,
I was only thirteen
passions unfurled,
in a wisp of a girl,
lanky and tall with blonde curls,
turned my back on their constant abuse,
I wrote poetry to cure what they used.

I gave my virginity to the homeliest boy,
I was only sixteen,
defiled and unclean,
sex became my weapon,
I would fuck out the anger,
build up my walls, become imminent danger,
piercing light eyes,
with devilish glare,
I held back my screams,
read books, and I dreamed.

Along came a child to cure my wild,
I was only twenty,
life was before me,
started this journey
to heal what has ailed me,
my successes all failed me,
still I wrote on,
an endless song
of pain and suffering,
the voice that cried out through the muffling
hands that covered my tender lips.
tied to an anchor my fists could not grip,
drowning in oceans
of a thousand emotions.

Thus formed a poetess,
a prowess of words,
master of all of the worlds deepest hurts.
no weight on my back,
as the clouds retract.
Mysterious words became my flight
as I fly the world's weeping like kites.