Page 190 - BEATS 24-25

A Soul, Not a Shape

You say I look pretty in my sundress,

You say I’m strong for going after my dream,

But how do I feel pretty when all I am out there is an object for

pleasure?

How do I feel strong when I’m reminded every day I’m not human, I

don’t exist.

Told to cover every part of my skin,

It’s my fault for the crime you commit,

Whether I’m 5, 15, or 50 doesn’t matter,

Your hungry stares linger in the back of my mind,

Ever so often coming back to haunt me,

Reminding me once again, I’m not a pair of eyes you fall in love with,

not a strand of hair you untangle, but instead just a mere body you

wish to dominate.

My identity strips away from my fingertips,

I fade into just another case in another file,

You say I’m weak for crying

So, I don’t.

Not one tear out of my eye as I bear the pain of your sin until there’s a

stinging silence in my head and I lay there on my last breath to

Watch you slowly disappear.

By Aarna malhotra MYP 4A