Broke the straw across her back,
so she snapped, never turning back
Bruised her arm by joking accident
with all the malice of death’s intent.

No natural love or paternal instinct
to catch
the tears she’s choked
with your hands on her throat.

Touch her again and the demons will get you
tell her to end herself before you do;
and the death you deserve will befall you
slow, alone and barren.

Better to have left long ago or
confronted your own lineage-issued father and
let yourself be disowned
than be the ******* you are.

Leave her be
middle child,  
second accident
of the disappointing gender.

How dare you lay a finger on an innocent child?
You’ll never be absolved in anyone’s eyes.

Raised by fools, you’ve ruined your gift.
The daughter you never wanted
may never say it,
but will grow up to spite you.

Suffer like she does.

She’s been soaking it up now
for a while
but the blood flow continues
from deep wells of wounds.

She can’t take this load anymore
the people she carries
don’t love her and she’s
parched but still going.

Surviving on a lump in her throat
as she’s dragged through sandstorms and beatings.