I rise impalpable
from poked and scattered ash.
Memories from the 20 years I lived
leave a crimson rash

on my skin once as white as snow.
the skin they began to scar
when I was 11, too young to know

that they were not just scars.
they were the marks on the bark
of a green, tender tree-

marks of men (or brutes?)- wild
and untamed.
there was nothing left of innocence,

nothing left of rainbows.
I did not have my days to play-
instead I was being played with.

I, a delicate *****, white,
stripped and whipped and sold.
a love-bit nape, blackened sight,
named the girl of gold.

but no more, no more.
I have risen from the depth
with my soft body rugged

and sour breath
and teeth marks on my collarbone-
like it was only yesterday.

men and their laughs-
tormenting and know-all,
conspiring my fall.

Now that I'm awake,
risen from my grave-
(they were kind to give me one)

I shall give them back the scars
they etched upon my heart,
I shall give them back the pain.

the little purple bruises.
I shall torture them quite insane
and they would die,

they would eventually die with regrets-
regrets not confessed.
I would return to my grave
and smile,

maybe laugh the manly laugh-
tormenting and know-all,
I would be their fall.

I was always like the sea
And you, my seashore.

I set off to conquer the world
Came back wasted, weary, vain
But you took me in your arms
Caressed my waves back sane
And our love, my love, is such
That it was built on hush and pain
Why else do you push me away
When my waters touch your terrain
Why else do I keep coming back
To be dealt with, this profane
Maybe for our love is such
It makes me come back again.

I will always be the sea
And you, my seashore
With all your folly you can push me away
And call me if there is more.

it is a
magic word
only if
you have had
little homeless
children
say it to you