True beauty

Too matured for their age

It was their mother’s duty

To free them from the terrene’s cage.

Tried telling mama about our nightmares

How we keep seeing faces of men that evoked fear

They looked at us like hungry bears

But mama wouldn’t listen.


Their mother’s pride

An envy to all

A little too late, she cried

Her little babies were being savaged by uncle Paul.

Called her attention with our tears

But mama wouldn’t listen


Guess he got tempted with our wears

Which made our bodies glisten.

In the day, they come like friendly uncles

Cradling us in the presence of mama like a precious vessel

In the night they use us like working tools

But mama wouldn’t listen.


With one hand he took control over my fatty chest

And with bloodshot eyes the other hand inside my sister’s mouth.

“You had better be on your best”

While we went to the shower to have our bath.

When mama washes us, we wince

She’ll scold us saying,

“Stop playing with yourselves”

We tried explaining

But mama wouldn’t listen.


Not so little to know

That what he did was grotesque

As he enjoyed the warmth of our tiny hole

Followed by infuriating pecks.

They told us not to scream, else they would hurt us

We kept mute and watched them eat our treasured apple

We couldn’t open up to mama

Because mama wouldn’t listen.

We tried communicating through song

But mother wouldn’t listen


Not even a town crier’s gong

Could tell her that our hymens were missing.

In the middle of the night we laid awake

Praying for the pain and shame to go away

Our pillows took the hurt and tears

The moon listened to our wails and fears

Because mama was too deaf to hear.


We lost our voices due to our constant screams

Every conversation took place in our heads

We couldn’t speak even if we tried

All because mama wouldn’t listen.


Then a hunch came

To expose this paedophile

An uncle to maim

His testicle we plot to file.

We brought out our nanny camcorder

To uncover his colossal secret


All we did was surrender

To his daily routine, we were discreet

When he got to that state

When nothing else mattered

With the flower vase, hit his head with so much hate Though our naivety was wounded, his head we battered.



Uncle’s testicle was shredded in seconds

While we awaited our mama’s return

We played the records

Mother watched in turn.

Tears rolling down her cheeks

Horrified at the sight

It made her sick


Her regrets she could not fight.

If you’re reading this

It means we’re already in juvenile

Never take their needs for granted please

So they don’t ever need to use the file.

Help the child not to fall an addict to their touches

A willing submissive to their sick activities.

A drug addict to their attention

Mama please always listen.


Photo by Lizzie on Unsplash

Author: Hope Alfred

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