Me, finally knowing myself
When you finally draw the memory and the words find their way out
she put it on like armour. She was 9 years old.
she put it on like armour because the world was no longer safe.
the bright red and blue made her feel a little stronger, stand a little taller.
nothing could prepare her for what was coming.
there is no armour a child can wear when their innocence is stolen.
she desperately wanted to be LOVED.
desperately wanted to know she was WANTED.
in a couple of years the red and blue would swirl,
with all the other colours of the world and
black shadows would curl and creep deep in her being.
her bones would brittle with fear.
her stomach would heave the with the stench of shame,
purging her of all that was destroyed by another.
she’d never wear her so-called armour again.
but she would remember the way it felt on her skin.
she would recall the moment when she finally felt a shift in her core.
she knew her strength was more than an aberration.
she was STRONG.
she was GLORIOUS.
she was BEAUTIFUL.
UNFILTERED.
UNFETTERED.
she was FREE.
