The teenager
With the face of a clown
Nobody told her
Why didn’t they tell her?
He painted her face
They loved him still
His hands were red
Her skin: raw and bled
Fingernails bloody
From clawing against
They won’t take her
She won’t be taken
Which one is worse?
Choosing not to hear,
Closed doors, new fear?
He painted me and they still loved him
Culprits of murder
Couldn’t gloat harder
When he painted my face
A clown, barely seventeen
And all they heard
Was that he had me
WHEN I WAS YOUNGER
MY CLOWN FACE WAS STAINED
AND NOBODY TOLD ME
THEY DIDN’T HOLD ME
HE PAINTED ME AND THEY STILL LOVED HIM
HIS RED HANDS
MY SKIN BLOODY
CAN NOBODY HEAR ME?
WHY CAN'T YOU HEAR ME?
About the Creator
Essie
Brambling, atypical logorrhoea that really materialise in the form of hatching worms. Or stars.
21
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