I remember those claws on my skin
scratching my flesh
they were treating me like a trash bin
I couldn't voice my screams
those iron rods through me
those bruises that buried me
beneath my own kin
I fought harder
But they had killed my laughter
I couldn't shake off the feeling
of those fingers on me
the wounds open and bleeding
I couldn't flee of those past memories
and flinch away of those horrific stories
to rid myself of the sins
I have not committed
'Help' I pleaded
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem