All I had was a box of tissue
All I had was my pillow to cry on
All I had was my diary to share my woes with
September 6, I was exactly fourteen
When I was made into a thing
My dad was two years dead
And my mum was just wedded
He snuck into my room
And ever since my nights spelled D-O-O-M
With fifteen, I topped the list of abortion
Oh! Not again! I canโ€™t find my menstruation!
Many would ask;
Is sharing my story such a hard task?
I would have told my mother,
But sheโ€™s forcefully eloping with breast cancer.
I had nowhere to go
And my light was starting to cease to glow
He keeps coming
And I canโ€™t help yielding.
She is the sunshine in my day
But her lover (cancer) is selling her to death without pay
She was all the joy I could get
But her life ticks to sunset
I feel dead already
I feel empty
I have no future;
There is no dream to nurture!
So painful;
All i had was knife to slit my wrist
Gladdened to drawn in my own blood with my unclenched fist.