By: Erica Radam

Walking by the sunset, hand in hand with
A stranger’s calloused palms
My chest is thumping
Then erupted from his proprietorial behavior.
I was procured by his eyes,
Held captive by his venereal intentions
Yet, I did nothing to escape
From the agony of his hand that can torment anyone.
By midnight, he brought me gifts
One is my brother and one is my mother,
Followed by the decapitated head of my father.
My head seemed to lose its function;
It became clouded with smoke that is blinding,
My body tried to extract a reaction from me
As a deafening, white noise penetrated my ears,
I felt my throat getting hoarser and huskier,
And before my consciousness noticed it,
A head severed from a body,
It rolled across the floor, almost painting it red,
A warning to hush the wailing girl inside.
Even though shaking and terrified,
The wailing girl forced her mouth shut,
She buried her silence somewhere no one could find,
Then morning came, it was supposed to be a new start
Of a new day. But to the girl whose wails were not heard,
It is a new day— a day of endless miseries;
A day with chains entangling with her body, soul and mind,
With the stranger who forced her to keep her silence.