I write these things

Give my shirt back Mpagi, and zip your pants
My hands have stopped shaking and i can breathe again
I did not carry the little knife they gave me, but next time i will

You have made your point Mpagi
You have the strength and i have nothing
You stole my pride and dashed my hopes
No one will have me, you made sure of that

I am not a poet, everybody knows it. But when i write, they read what i write and they tell me it is beautiful and it rhymes and it is marvelous. I know they lie because i read it later and i laugh at myself. I write because it helps me let out the pain. I write because to put it out there makes me feel like i do not carry it alone, i know that somewhere somehow, someone will read between the lines and know that the things i write, are lines after lines that are a true story.

I want you to feel what i have felt
I want you to see as i saw
I want the tears to run down your face
I want to watch you as you watch me break you

I sometimes wonder what goes through your mind. I wonder if you think beyond the thing that you do. I stopped hoping for a miracle, now i just want an opportunity. I must bide my time. No one must know because i could never bear the shame. How could i possibly tell them of the things that have been done to me.

Blood red blood,
Rough bony hands
Ignorant little me

You broke me Mpagi
You took away my pride,
You crashed my dreams
You took away the me i had left

I want to see you pay one day. I want to watch you squirm. I want to see you dance in pain as though hot needles had found place inside your shoes. I want you to scream out in pain and beg me to stop. I want you to ask me to help you, i want you to beg so that i can say no.

I think those things in my heart even as i listen to the man in front of me say that sins can be washed away, pain can be taken away. I used to feel dirty, soiled, like no amount of scrubbing could take away the years of abuse. I still feel dirty but i have more tolerance for myself now. I want you to know though, that i felt everything you did, and as much as i can live with myself, i cannot bear it that we breathe the same air.