She is the girl who was made to wear silence on her skin
With misery pushed down her throat
By men of famished lips-
who know how to knot fear on bodies of their prey

Like a lost smoke, finding its way to a room in the fires
She's lost, with no place to call a home

They took her, laid her between corridors of shame
On a eve too hot for the rain
In their eyes, she saw a city where stigma is clothed in regalia of dignity

Men who hid their faces in pages of the wind
Men of darkened desires
They tore her dress, not to pieces - but from top to bottom, her dignity - they cracked

They asked her not to cry, she obliged
As they searched for love in the city between her thighs - they were six

She is now a lane no one wants to tread,
On her voice you will find a scar bigger than her dream

They stole her innocence and left her to find solace -
In the consolation of onlookers
She is long lost- but still trying to find her way back to herself
Maybe she would, maybe not

But if you happen to find her before me
Remember to tell her not to hold on to the grief
Tell her how to be strong -
To cry out the tears - for in them, the world may find a way to hunt down her fears

And in her lonely sighs, some little girl like her may find a way
back to their dignity that wandered off-
seeking a place to call a home

I don't know the girl's name
But I hope this poem finds her
And in them, I hope she finds courage in the pages of these words.

The girl who was made to wear silence on her skin