Do you know that feeling you get
When your cry gets stuck in your throat,
And it thrashes and tries to leap
Forward up your voice box
Desperate to get to your mouth for release?
Well, that's how I feel right now:
Because I was reminded by my mother
That I should have been born a boy.
When I was little, I yearned to manipulate time
In order to mould my genitals to something with more substance
After I somehow saw the cards of my life laid out on the table.
But I can't play
Even though it's my life.
Culture does it in my place,
Binding the ropes of expectation to my limbs
and by the end of the game,
Stitching my lips together too.
At the age of twenty-one I am still a puppet
Chained to the home
And locked in the kitchen, serving
The family who eats not only food,
But my hope too.
The boys are full yet unsatisfied,
And I am starving for unconditional love.
They say everything comes with a price
But I see no freedom in my life
As mother bends down to kiss my brothers and feed them
With everything which has been leeched off me
I remember once again
That I should have been born a boy.
About the Creator
LIFE MAZI
A RELIC OF GROWTH
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