I am no child of love.
I haven't been for generations.
Not since the day the intruder forced himself on my great grandmother and called it a marriage.
Since the day she fled and gave birth to my grandma away from his claws.
Only for her to meet claws in the mouth and fists of my grandfather.
Since men have been eating and pulling my mother's hunkers. Letting her drown in her tears.
I am no child of love cause so little love was shown to the women I come from.
YOU ARE READING
Purple blush
Poetry''Everything you did to me, I remember. Mama, I made it out of your home alive, raised by the voices in my head. '' -Warsan Shire, Extreme girlhood
