She realised that she was a girl when she was four. When the
Shameful image her parents had of her translated and
Diffused into her own body and poisoned everything. When she
Became a contrast, to be hidden and yet showcased, abused to the core
And then thrown away. When she first felt a long-term hunger and lack;
That her survival would never be a necessity for those who created her in the first place.
She is a ghost with a heartbeat when she drags her body through dysfunctional
Streets. Her life has not yet begun and already she carries the weight of her
Society’s unstable mind-set. She is forced to think of herself what her abusers
Think of her. Expendable. A girl. Useless. An object for cheap desires. A vessel to be made
Sick. They all hope for her death because she costs nothing and is a financial burden;
What she earns she must give away, her body remains as others throw it away and treat
Her like trash. The only hope she had was that her mother might be able to relate to her.
But she realised that it was too late: there was a man’s soul in her mother’s body.
“The Birds Nest” by Sophie Gengembre Anderson (1823-1903)