<p>“Splendor-Clothed Scars"</p><p>(By Atangche Zita Ngeche)</p><p><br></p><p>They say she’s blessed—</p><p>living in gold and marble,</p><p>but what they don’t see</p><p>are the bruises blooming beneath her gown.</p><p><br></p><p>She walks like royalty,</p><p>yet trembles like a leaf when the door closes.</p><p>Her laughter—borrowed.</p><p>Her silence—bought.</p><p>Her smile—painted with fear.</p><p><br></p><p>They see the diamonds,</p><p>I see the dents.</p><p>They praise the mansion,</p><p>I hear the cries in the walls.</p><p><br></p><p>They ride in sleek cars,</p><p>sit in pews of polished pride,</p><p>men, women, children—</p><p>all wrapped in wealth’s deceit.</p><p>Beautiful prisons.</p><p>Glamorous graves.</p><p><br></p><p>Perfume can’t hide despair.</p><p>Makeup can’t cover pain.</p><p>Customs call it patience,</p><p>tradition calls it duty,</p><p>but I call it what it is—</p><p>violence, wearing designer clothes.</p><p><br></p><p>To be continued....</p>
15
Comments