Read Time:1 Minute, 39 Second
Scratch love stories;
We can't love with these memories.
Sylvia, Annie—all the women that came before me
I'm sure they never got to tell their stories.
In these streets, she walks with ghosts in daylight.
Men who said, "Calm down, it's nothing."
Those same hands touched her
In places she couldn't wash clean.
How could she speak?
Reported to authorities that took authority—
Not towards her pain,
But on that same body she protected.
She told them; they said:
"Maybe you led him on," followed by, "Oh, be strong."
How could she love when she has been failed?
"Don't wear this; don't wear that."
How is that an excuse for such horror?
Now they want us to trade our body for protection.
How cruel.
Too thick. Too slim.
Too emotional. Too fragile.
Too fair. Too dark.
Every day she wakes up with a body
That remembers what the world forgets.
Every night she peeled off shame,
Like a skin she never asked to wear.
"Men are polygamous in nature"—fxck that!!
How is it okay for a man to flex sleeping with multiple women,
And when a woman does it, she's unclean, a slut, a whore?!
But she's still here.
Doesn't want to be no Lesley.
Still unlearning the word "victim,"
Carving SURVIVOR into her bones.
Cancel therapy; that wasn't going to work.
Now she's out for herself,
And to the satisfaction of all the women that came before us.
Because, if nobody's going to fight for her,
She'll set the world on fire herself—
Not to destroy,
But to make them finally see her in the light.
Michael Sophia Chidinma is a Nigerian poet exploring themes of identity, longing, and the human heart. Writing since age ten, Sophia blends critical thinking with deep emotional resonance to create poetry that acts as both a mirror and a balm. With a mission to heal and connect, Sophia’s work invites readers to feel seen through the power of restoration and timeless storytelling.
