Thought

I was twelve when I first saw her
A woman I thought was my second mum
I had so much trust in her
If only I knew
She was jack of all trades
The preachers wife who always had an inviting face
Taking note of me being motherless
She wanted me to taste motherly love
So for lunch she invited me
This was how my flower was plucked into bleeding
Innocent as i was
I ran happily
That same day
The black of all days
I knew only of two numbers
One I was defiled and two shots happened
That exactly explains that I was twelve
I never knew who to turn to
This is supposed to be my suicidal letter but
I am now healing
Getting to understand more of what went down
Other than my self esteem going down
Women ask why would a man be brutal
If the same question was posed to me
More answers could be given
I changed
This made me feel that I had character
A bafoon a racoon a decendant of baboon a goon to die so soon
That’s how I felt
Then the society wanted me to hide my tears
Men don’t cry they said
But what should I do
I couldn’t hold it I wore a skirt and ran to cry
I made sure to cry once and never let that same reason
Force me to skirt
This painful feeling
I had heard of no healing
Boy child girl child
Wouldn’t this word stop making a difference
To some extend that
For one to cry you need to be a girl
A boy child must stay strong
Being a crybaby is no mans bother
You should maintain the hurt
The thought of kale kasichana kasupuu kasupuu sana kasupu kama msupa kwa supa reminds me of Samantha again that’s the name of preacher’s wife
Am not mad at her but still forgiveness doest just happen
When i do forgive her I’ll also forget the society
This wound that she created in me
In that black of all days
The eighth day of my week
That made me weak
This road to healing is teaching me so much
Just one step to teen
Then I saw all sides of her coin
I didn’t dare flip
I was shocked
Am still walking on that change of a road
But I think am over grown
Seen much more
Tears now don’t flow
The heart that I had
Still flows even when broken
I no longer express what I feel
Am so hard a book to judge from the cover
Mrs preacher just so you know
I have reported your case
Seems your known
Saw her singing
Na mwogopa mungu pekee
Mwanadamu kija kuntafash naomba mungu ntetee
Is that what you call being high
I mean she was in spirit but preaching the water
I wish that this case goes my way
Am ready to tell you
That I got hurt
Tell people that its okay to cry
Then finally get my justice
But it will forever remain coded to my mind
That you deflowered me

@mutcy_black_poet