Work Text:
Were all children born innocent?
My father looked at me with uncaring eyes
As though I had committed treason by existing.
My mother glanced at me with guilty conscience
As though she could have done better for our lives.
My own reflection stared at me with cold judgement
As though I could challenge the defects eating away my sanity and being
As though I could cast away my doubts of self if not selves
As though I could change the ill opinions society had of me
As though I could care to plead a few more times just for his approval.
My manuscripts should see not the daylight
As pride was but a momentary state waiting to succumb to shame.
My sins from birth could never be washed away
As these damning marks were etched vibrantly onto my skin.
My ears I hopelessly shielded from the noises that were haunting me day and night to no avail
As they hung on to stunning frequencies for salvation.
The boy’s unique! Said they before hearing my impure beginnings
The boy’s useless! Said they when scaring me away with their prying looks
The boy’s brilliant! Said they after listening to the repertoire I learnt by heart
The boy’s bland! Said they while criticizing that piece I wrote for dearest mother
The boy’s imaginative! Said they until coming to know my hallucinations
The boy’s impossible! Said they, finalised.
Denied of a baptism
Deprived of a family
Detested, exiled, dishonoured,
My desires made cheap, now but non-existent.
I wondered,
What sacrilegious pact,
Were I to be a living proof of?
Then it all came to me, a cruel revelation:
Never have I ever stood a chance against my own shadow, her creation.