Literature · Poetry · Tales Of Eve · Women Affairs

Real Hope


       Torn apart
       Reeled by indignity
       Stints of immoral pleasure
       Separated my soul from his iniquity
       How do I spell the words?
       Hidden behind my father’s carnal
       His lascivious tints
       And his sudden early morning feats
       As he hollered above my sleep 
       And makes my nuzzle sprint
       So much tears, so much scars
       Upon a little world
       Of immoral sexual spars
       How do I tell the world? 
       Of my father’s carnal bud
       As he forces his way through me
       His only daughter but only son
       While I writhe in pain and agony
       As he makes my moonlight.    stories burn
       He wakes up at six

      And walks up to my humble abode
      Takes off his shirt
      And jeers at my little body
      He makes me cry
      And takes up a muddy approach
      Upon my little world
      Of immoral sexual stints 
      How do I tell the
     Of my father’s carnal bud
     His soul and banal figure
     For he sleeps with me
     On a swarthy little bed
     Takes off my gown and makes me.     scream away
     Till I sleep no more but wish my dreams away
He breaks my innocence
     And leaves me in silence
     He steals away my gritty smile
     And robs me of my witty saliens.                                                                           How do I tell the world?
     That I was just sixteen
     When I lost my virginity
     To my own father
     To whom I laid the night with
     To whom I made my spite with
     To whom I gave all of my trust
     To whom I learnt  of my lust
     But he gave me away
     Upon his little world
     Of sexual immoral stints
     How do I spell the words?
     For I no longer live with words
     And a fool I have become
     With my tiny little gun
     I needed a life
     I craved for real hope
     I needed to see a light
    To set my limits right
   Just before I die
   And before I rot away
   Upon a world so little
   That took so much away from me.


  Poet’s Note:
Some stories are worth telling. This poem depict the life of a young school girl who lost her sanity to the horrors of her own bloodline. A girl born of light and hope turns out differently after so much torture and sexual abuse from her own father. I was fortunate to hear from her, but I believe I could never tell how deep her mental scars turned out to be. Let us tell someone about the horrors of sexual abuse. It could change fates of generations yet unborn.


Adedeji Muktarh is a final year student of International Relations at Obafemi Awolowo University, Ile-Ife.
He takes joy in Music, Painting, pencils and a bit of writing. He draws his inspiration from his personal experiences with people.

8 thoughts on “Real Hope

    1. Yes it really deserves to be told. To think that so many others go through similar situations makes it harder and more painful to imagine.

      Thanks for stopping by to express this.

    1. Sadly, it would interest you to know that so many of these still happen, even under our noses. The pathetic thing is that this act is perpetrated by people who perceived to be responsible and religious.

      Thanks for reading Stankobrown.:)

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