Childhood’s Fable, Womanhood’s Scar

Childhood’s facade shatters
like brittle glass on concrete
the crayon’s vivid scrawl
bleeding into nursery walls
Mama’s voice a whispered lie
“kind eyes of a god”
a fortune in his pocket
a mind like sharpened glass
cutting through deceit

The silver screen’s false promises
Superman’s impossible feats
a composite of flawless lies
a hero carved from air
hands that never fail
facile grace beneath a fabricated sky

But womanhood crashes in
like a brutal storm
unfurling shadows
peeling back fragile skin
exposing the hollow
the rot that thrives within

No more gilded cages
no more painted smiles
the hunger is for something raw
something stripped bare
a soul unmasked
inhabiting desolate space

In this desolate landscape
I search for fragments
of a self long buried
under layers of deceit
and societal expectations