Fazes

Monsters

(Trigger warning SA)

I remember my mom found me huddled in the dark, staring at a wall.
What she didn't know was,
My pillows stained with enough tears,
that it reiterated my constant state of drowning
That every few minutes I had to relearn breathing,
The very moment I struggle to reach for air.

She opened my room door, and threw my curtains wide.
I screamed.
My voice screeching through the hallway,
As rays of light pierced my skin.
It's easier to mask sorrow if I hid it in the dark .

Needless to say I pissed her off.
But me being startled started to be a repeated occurrence,
Which my family grew accustomed to.

She stood stoic and frustratingly asked,
Why I was so afraid of everything,
She said it was starting to get ridiculous.

There was no right way of answering that question. And if there was a wrong way, the truth would definitely be it.

She stood waiting for a response,
The only words I could utter was..
"ᴮᵒʸˢ"
My body still glued to the imprint I've created in my bed.
She rolled her eyes, sucked her teeth
And I caught a glimpse of her disappointment.

She couldn't fathom that her daughter would be so dramatic over something so minuscule.

You can't tell a woman who survived war and famine that a man had the power to make you feel so small.
Especially when you're in a body that would never be described that way.

I thought about telling her,
That her daughter also survived,
But she wouldn't understand that wars don't end when guns stop shooting.

She wouldnt understand that weapons look like respectable boys,
whispering sweet nothing.

That they have smiles so wide like a ken doll,
That you forget it's manufactured.
Wide enough to swallow you whole,
And convince you that you asked them too.

Besides I knew my mom didn't like liars
The thumping in my chest was an indicator that surviving and bravery could never be used to describe what kept happening to me.

Not when I'm afraid of how easily no can be erased from my vocabulary.
Not when I abandon my body to take the trauma on my behalf,
And wait oh so patiently and politely for it to be over.

I wanted to say that I've seen monsters,
But monsters dwell in fairytales and horror movies,
Not at parties that I shouldn't of been too anyways.
Wearing things I shouldn't of been anyways.

She wouldn't understand that monsters mistake intoxication for permission,
That her daughter allowed alcohol to take away her ability to give permission.
That alcohol and her daughter were in the same vicinity.

That monsters have taken my voice as a souvenir,
A badge of honour,
A riddle that they could not be bothered to decode.

That they would block the door,
And yank her daughters arm like a leash .
That they considered this tactic, playful banter.
That monsters thought her daughter was beautiful,
A prize worthy of stealing.

And when they did,
They pinned her to the wall like a piece of art,
Used their stone cold hands and hot breath,
To admire the fine lines and texture.
That her daughter should've known that people have different ways of appreciating art.

How do I tell a woman that this is a war that she can't protect me from.
That there were monsters she couldn't protect me from.
I can't let something as minuscule as a boy make me feel small right?