why

she was looking a little odd
that day

that day

when no one really had
the audacity to ask
why

why

were her breasts covered by
nothing but a tiny piece of
satin cloth—dirty

her body

was stained with
blood and bruises
as well as her face
where dried tears were visible
as well as her grubby hair

everyone saw that

her ragged jeans were
so ragged that it seemed
to have been soaked in a mud—

no, it was not mud

it was blood

in the middle of the two
back pockets of her jeans
in the middle of her legs

she was completely hurt
but why

no one asked

why she was looking so odd

that day.

mama

Mama, answer me, how can emptiness become so heavy?

I mean, I have been alone and independent—trying to conceal the loneliness with my own idea of pleasure. Until now, I could still feel every man’s finger that touched my skin, the heat that they’ve caused me, the new day of hopelessness and the second-rate life. Who wouldn’t want indulgence despite of those things? But no, you can’t enlighten me, Mama. You never enlightened me..or at least tried to. All my life, I thought mothers are capable of making their child invincible but why are you so different, Mama? You have just been making me vulnerable. I would not mind moving in this apartment which, for other people, is a sex den. I would not mind them talking lame things about me and you..but what I really mind is you, of all the people, considering me as the ‘devil’. Everyone can blame me for having a grudge on you since you are still my mother. But why is the world so unfair? Like a trash, you ditched me as your daughter..and it was still fine because you being religious permit everyone to believe that I was the sinful one. Perhaps you are right.

I am doing horrible things under this roof and this is all because of you, Mama.

I am full of hate and anger that even my own sister disgusts me. This is all because of you, Mama.

You will never know how it feels like to be looked at like some kind of beast every time I walk out that room. I may get the pleasure I want but the remorse, after that, pierces my insides. I have a choice, but I chose to be rogue. You, on the other hand, did not have a choice but to choose your daughter over false beliefs, yet still preferred to leave me to hell.

Shame on you for shaming me.

Shame on me for shaming you.

You emptied me.. and now I feel so burdened. Thanks a lot, Mama.