I lost fragments of myself,
No, it’s my inner child
She just needs help
She cries and yelps
About how she is done.
She is infuriated with the lies
She had been fed as a child
About how he was a good man
He just needed time
And space that kept her at arm’s length.
She is fed up with the hate
From thigh to breast
How sexual is it
No, I might regret.
I am losing fragments of myself
Through the fragrance on the shelf
See, it was somehow meant to curve
Yet this curve has curled beyond cuts and care.
I bear fruit with my head
Yet it rots to your words
My inner child is infuriated
With the lies
A mother in a farm
A father as the cow
And every other seed she crops
Waiting for him to evolve
Leave all rebellions behind
Yet he grazes on the same land
That almost cost her her life.
We are tired
Both my inner child and I
Love betrays our palms
Not to kiss our feet
But to erupt into a smoke
That will forever chase the dove.
I lost fragments of myself
To love corrupted with lies.
This was written by our contributing writer, Siwaphiwe Matha.
Image Source: Pexels, cottonbro studio
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