I escaped CANNIBALS.
The title of this tale sounds quite exaggerated,
and for every breathing animal, it is strictly R rated.
If surviving is fortunate then why do I hate it?
The demons in my head ridiculed, “oh girl! you never made it.”
The thing about death is not just being breathless,
it’s the choking part that makes me so horribly distress.
I still see men with sharp fingers and heavy press.
Existing is easy? Heard of post-traumatic stress?
Do nightmares feel real? asked the 11 years old.
Why the cannibals in my dream were all the men I knew?
His lusty gaze next morning and that scary dark snow,
eventually peeled my skin and made me a psycho.
If I was not a sinner, why the witness left my side?
If what he did was crime, why my skin enjoyed?
Why hints are so hard to get? why put them aside?
Anger is scarcely anger, it’s the pain that ignites.
I wrapped my tiny hands to shut my weeping sounds.
And made my own shade between the door and the drapes.
I screamed, “I won’t step out.” To make you suspect, what’s off?
But all you did papa, was scold me to get out!
-Muskan Bundela
CONTEXT OF THE POEM
This poem is about child abuse and the effect it has on the naive minds of young children. It talks about how the stigma and shame around sexual abuse can lead the little ones to suffer in deep silence and blame themselves for the wrongdoings of pedophiles.
