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stay little soldier
March away little soldier,
before trauma becomes a bedtime story,
A tale of how you one day saw
a white maiden, gleaming like porcelain,
turn an ugly shade of brown,
the cloth adorning her virgin breasts torn
and the last strings of her sanity
snapped.
March away little soldier,
before you write about how her voice
turned supersonic,
inaudible-
because the men around you tuned your ears down,
building a soundproof wall around her
the bricks; her dignity
the cement; her suffering.
March away little soldier,
before you become them,
relishing the scarlet wounds
gracing her tainted heart,
she is now like the crushed flower in her palm,
never again fragrant
never again beautiful
enjoyed only for her feel
her torso made a warzone for the likes of those
who had silent mothers
and oblivious fathers.
March away little soldier,
but leave your sister behind,
let her see why the same house is
a prison to her
and a paradise to you.
whisper in her ear,
oh sister mine,
a temple of gold, your body is,
but a shrine, to hearts of love,
is a brothel
to hands of power.
Stay little soldier,
watch their every move,
watch how they forget about their mothers and daughters,
watch how they turn into the monsters they swore to slay,
watch how they pretend to be human,
watch.
because one day, you must become them.
and when you do,
you must do to them,
what they did to us.
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This article has 2 comments.
Heyy, I'm Sameeksha from India. So, I started writing when I was about eleven to find a way to figure out what was going on inside my head and before I knew it I had won my first international award for poetry and it had become something I simply could not live without. This piece is probably one of my favourites simply because it deals with not only the brutalities women face at the hands of horrid men but also the trauma young boys go through living in such an abusive and ghastly household.