I am the girl who was never the child
Seen too much, been too much, defiled and reviled
Stains the inside, halts growth, behind your eyes too many images
Fitful in shade, don’t now how to make, a real version of me
Seen so many attempts, the fakes and the frauds when do you
Grow up to be? A woman?
Lying in your arms, purging in the bathroom, lies upon lies
Pain begets pain, begets strength and illusion, which pill to take?
Smoking away the shame, nothing powerful enough to name
We stay without label to avoid burden of claim, no baby, no womb
Take the real out, leave the fake and to the core rotten
When do you grow up to be? A woman?
After all is said and done, masturbation, rape, incest, are not the tropes
Of this girl she may not have much left, but within her lies a seed
You cannot remove, nor discount, even though you’ve tried mightily
She eats herself inside out, what returns is born from within the husk
A woman at last, not a girl, not a sin, despite what her mother
may have said
She’s here to stay, despite herself and your best attempt
Get used to it.
Candice Louisa Daquin of French Egyptian heritage moved from France to America and has worked and lived in the American SouthWest as a Psychotherapist and Writer since. Her work can be found at TheFeatheredSleep .