One among a hoard of childhood memoirs of that little girl hidden deep inside. How many of us are aware of child abuse? I guess all! Here's another attempt to showcase how lethal it might have felt..
I saunter down those uneven thoughts,
The gritted treat of thy illusion,
At first even and then uneven, my garden of remembrance….
It had to run with my salted heart,
The moulted rumination with yet another start!
I lay by the window with a cup of coffee in my hand
What was empty had nothing for a count,
My soul only rummaged for a why
A swollen heart and that dreadful sight….
Was it in him or just the mere darkness of light?
Yes, he plagued my being
I refused to beset how known he was to me,
Nothing was dear and the nearness to him fled
A bout of fear sent trills of shame…
Being felt reluctantly, what about my name..!
Like a melody of distraught, what was feeling high and low?
Yet another saga…
Down the vista of altered years,
Even today my mind runs over pelted stones…
Was it in him or was I a target of the unknown’s?