I want to tell you how badly it hurts.
Being in a society of perverts.
Where you are judged,
By the length of your skirts.
I want to tell you how it feels,
Being a girl child.
Who doesn't have any idea,
Of the last time she smiled.
I want to tell you,
How it feels being raped.
Of how a certain moment,
Makes a girl's life ravaged.
I wish to tell you,
How it feels being thrown into prostitution as a teenager.
When men compel you to do things,
Until their hunger is assuaged.
I want you to hear the screams of a woman,
Who’s tortured and abused.
And raped by her husband every night.
I wanted to show you,
How insecure a girl feels,
Walking in the midnight.
I wished you knew her parent's anxiety,
Until she reaches home all right.
I wanted to tell you,
But I'm already dead.
My parents didn't want a daughter,
So they killed me instead.
By K.C. Waghela
Email address: firstname.lastname@example.org