I can hear a cry of anguish,
A twisted cry out to fate,
A resounding echo it makes,
All coming from her, deep down her emptiness,
Her destiny not a mouth watering fantasy,
She has become a rug under the feet of the masters.
She mops and chops not forgetting the pops,
Awake in the midst of the snores of the world,
Alone in the chambers of a darkened life,
No one to talk to, no one to listen,
So she makes the choice, act like a dumb.
Saturday 8: 00pm, dinner time, not her time,
Serving all the plates, not her's counted,
His eyes, fixed on that innocent frail body,
From her head, down to her not so full chest,
All back to her young bottoms,
Was it her fault?
Sunday,3: 00am, a normal day, a normal routine,
Slowly her eyelids go open, a new miserable day,
But almost late, for that daily rhythm, not so good a tune.
To the kitchen, her freedom cell she walks,
Whoa! He was there, his fat belly protruded,
Was she to blame?
Two months later, no periods, a shock to her innocence,
'But maybe, it is normalcy' she quietly thought,
Still fresh as a unsealing wound, the fateful morning was,
Tears slowly roll down her young 15year old cheeks,
How could she explain it to the world.
Was it her misbehavior?
Two more months, things get more troubling,
Nausea, vomiting, this was just too much,
'Madam! what is happening to me? ' innocently she asks,
'You ungrateful devil! ', the only reply to her query,
'No in my house, nor under my nose', another reply.
'You are pregnant! ', but may i know how come! ' thirdly.
Was she really at fault?
'Who? me? Seriously? ' three rhetoric questions,
He mastered them fluently and in surprise,
'Tomorrow early morning, before sunrise',
'By morrow, my house you leave' she thundered.
Tears, anger, confusion and shock all under one pressurized 15yr old,
Where is she to run to? Who will deliver her?
Was it her cross to carry?
7 months, an empty stomach yet so full,
In the streets without hope in life,
Her innocence, her dumbness caused it all,
It was too much, she could not bare it anymore,
The burden on her back was too heavy for her to carry,
A sip of a dark liquid, pattering of legs, popped eyes,
And slowly a life is gone,
A pain in the world.
Was she not innocent?