Invisioning the shame

The signalling of my arrival proclaimed disgruntlement to my begetter.
I was nothing but an opportunity for him to be an ignominy once again, but how was I to know I was
to be a male child?
Mother nature had encircled me with injustice, and covered me with distain.

While he was recovering from the disgust, I pulled out the dark card.
I was abruptly promoted as a two edged sword of disappointment in the family.
There was no room for wondering, as he reminded me everyday that I was a useless blind girl who
brought nothing but disrepute to his manhood.

as a punishment, helpless and tiny are thrown in a ring with a giant man.
He wins all the time as my mother turns a blind eye.
The sensation of his moustache on my face sends shivers down my spine as I cringe in my darkness.

Mistaken for being demure, as my voice suppressed with every dirty fingerprint, and with guilt
running through my veins.
Every night as I invision the shame that I am, I pray that my body would exist outside of me, that
way I would not feel you hurt me.

My whole being is like turbulent waters streaming to the wale of deep longing.
A Longing for an embrace, and not a crushing.
A longing for a caress, and not a contusion.
A longing to be daddy’s little girl, and not to be vitiated at your hands.

Go on heart of mine, swim in the cognition of rejection.
Make peace with the reality of acceptance being an impossible aspiration to attain.
You will eternally remain a door I could not knock hard enough to be opened, and I will forever
wonder what having a father really means.