This is a poem on child abuse. What if the child has no clue that she is being abused and is trying to convince herself that this is how the world goes around? Ironical, isn't it?
As those teary eyes peep beneath the door,
For any shadows lurking on the floor,
Any signs of you being there,
Hoping against hope, this was fair.
“You, o uncle, o my family kin,
Thou shall know what’s good, what’s sin,
Thus I believe in your disposition,
Hoping against hope, there were benign intentions.
“So when you dropped by my room,
‘Just to say a hello, an adieu’
Shutting the door behind your back
Putting me up upon the rack
Tracing the lace beneath my dress
Why must my bosom supple to breasts?!
My eyes scare me, as I catch a look
Of your deeds in the mirror at the nook,
The butcher’s goat, as it waits,
For the dagger in his hand to signature its fate!
“I mustn’t panic, should not despair,
Should not question those who ‘care’.
This was right, this was just,
All uncles would do what was must,
Shame on me to doubt his love
See a vulture disguised a dove!
I am young, know not what lies
How the moon conjures the tides,
Should trust he who takes care of me
Who comes in the dark, but adores me
THIS IS RIGHT! I HAVE TO BE STRONG!”
Hoping against hope, that I am wrong…”