Tuesday, September 14, 2010


(This was written for a girl whose father poured acid over her face and body when she was 10 months old)

No matter how beautiful
is that Gumamela you're attaching
lovingly on my ears, sister
I will never be like you.

Look at me from head to foot
I am wrapped with the hatred
every ugly thing that could latch onto
the very nerves of our father

Somehow he has still a little love left
to keep me alive and live
like a monster,
Obviously not like you...

Sometimes when I gaze in the mirror
the thought of living normally
carries my hopes away
to the unknown depths of solitude

I try to see what is not there
something that is not what the reflection reveals
and the smile that seems so distant

Under the lashes of my eyes
is a picture of my heart's desire
A father that tells her daughter
"you shouldn't be sad because i love you".

Hold my hand sister and feel
my pulse racing with my heartbeat
Mind swamped with cold treatment

Hold tight sister and let down the fog
The bitterness and shame Dad had bestowed me
after he poured the acid on my face and body
when i was ten months old.

Feel me sister,
let our pulses blend, like real gold
Although I am not like you...

The sea of perception yawns like hell
Every time it sees me...
Me and my ogre-like self...

Because i am not like you
and i will never be.

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