SEX MACHINE

I remember my little self
With a tiny tot brain
And little twinkly eyes
As i gawked at the beamy
Television set kept
That was magnificent in size
A woman cried
For she contained within her
The miracle of an unplanned life
They said she was being strong
I couldn’t fathom much
But something seemed awfully wrong

Sifting through grainy photos
Preserved memories
Of moments that must’ve been worth:
My little self in a blue bath tub
Floating in soapy bubbles and mirth.
Mirrors –  now i’m ten times explored
Scrutinising my exterior,
I ponder how could i fit inside
My mother who sits yonder
Oh, she must’ve been a force
Mightier than lightening and thunder
I silently promise myself
Never to surrender.

At sixteen, i heard about the talk
“How not to find yourself in a fix
Like that girl” it was called
“Learn to find your way out of that trap
Of fertility and desire and lust
Because it’s all crap!”
At home, they were pearls
Gently placed in my lap
“If that happens to you, he’ll leave,
You’ll be all on your own
A disgrace, a lifelong dilemma,
Severed dreams, and the worst – alone!”
I can’t let it germinate, this seed
Is meant for them, not for me
Am I merely a sex machine?
A consequence of my own greed?

Years later I find myself behind a closed door
Reading positive, not really alone,
Feeling lost, and incredibly unsure
Of why my body rejects happiness
Over a miracle-like phenomenon
As I’ve known
It comes back to me like mist
TV sets and women crying
Rivers on the floor
Fearsome girls on their first night
Afraid of being called a whore
Women everywhere being scared
Of their own extensions,
The magic they have in store.

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