“Petrified”
A word out of touch
“Petrified”
I am running out of time.
Emotions infused with glum
Feelings I can’t explain
Painted blue,
Only with pain.
Petrified
A voice disguised by disgust
I am not blind
Rather numb
Petrified
In a room full of roses
Knives in chamber
Nearer to my end
Waiting for a sign
I should not even know exists.
I am only just a child.
Oh, little one.
I am Petrified
By his voice
When he walked through that door
His hands would do what he had labeled “roam”
While my head mopped the floor
My voice mistaken for a fly.
Exposed to dark lines
While deprived of my voice
Ravishment painted as a choice.
I am Petrified
By the sound of my own voice
The innocent words
That tore my childhood apart.
And ignoring the source
I hated the lores.
This was written by our contributing writer, Siwaphiwe Matha.
Image Source: Pexels, Gwimo C.
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