Day55
#365daypoetryforadvocacyandsocialchangechallengeb
To the boy that was touched before he even knew how to spell touch and to the boy that was
made a man before he reached his twelfth birthday, to this boy, I am sorry.
I am sorry for the filth those hands spread into your young body , for all the times you were told to do it, to place yourself in between her legs and feel her folds, for all the times your willpower was taken away from you with a threat to silence you forever if you ever dared to speak.
I apologise for the burden of secrets you carry within your chest, for the chamber of stolen
innocence you were trapped in with no way to escape,
for the nightmares that creep into your brain every time you have to touch someone else , for the recurring visions of your body being moulded into what it was not ready for.
To the man you are now, the man plagued with demons birthed by the very people who were supposed to be your angels, the man with denial running through his veins and the ghosts of his childhood dancing in his head.
There are not enough words to string together the apology you deserve; there are not enough apologetic phrases to build a bridge to go back in time and stop that moment from happening; that moment where you become a clause in an agreement without
your consent.
I cannot promise you healing; I cannot promise that you will find who you were before those
hands tore you apart.
I can only hope your pieces find peace.
And I hope you never forget that even broken crayons can still draw beautiful pictures and
broken pencils can still write beautiful stories.
Jojo Inika is a creator and curator of words, a human potato and a lover of sour fruits.
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