From my poetry notebook…This Ain’t Shakespeare.
What does a young girl know?
More than she should.
How to keep from getting a fist in the face,
By going down on her knees.
How to avoid the biting sting of a slender tree limb,
By lying helplessly on her back and succumbing to force.
How to stop the lash of a black, leather belt,
By surrendering her body to what she knows is wrong.
What else is a young girl taught?
Things she should never be taught.
Not to trust,
Because trust leads to disappointment.
How to deceive,
Because her entire life is a lie.
How to present a smile to the world,
When inside she’s drowning in her own tears.
Not to believe what is shown in the mirror.
Because her eyes see a pretty, little girl.
But her mind sees a child, ugly and twisted.
What else does a young girl know?
Exactly what she needs to.
She learns to survive.
To hibernate in her own silent shell.
To build up invisible walls.
That even hurt cannot penetrate.
She learns to free her mind from her body.
To a place where they can co-exist,
Without falling to pieces.
This is what a young girl learns…
From her father.