Ayana's Interlude

Lord I'm calling you
Lord I need you

At the age of 8 her segregated bruises caused confusion
Infused with the illusion that retribution was the solution for misguided youths
She disguised the truth for a side of proof
But nobody listened

Nobody listened at the age of 10 when Uncle Ren made that grin
And placed himself within the confined spaces
That her body had mistaken for sex
Digest this food for thought and realize
There's a different between sex and rape.
And by the age of 11 it had happened like eleven more times
Don't need 11 more rhymes to describe to you
The toll that it took on her soul
At age 12, she would yell for him to stop
But no one on the block had protected her
And the woman that molded her for 9 months neglected her
And that affected her, but she collected her tears
Like the good girl that she was and she prayed
She prayed for the day the pain would cease to exist
She would bleed from her wrist and use her fist to inflict harm
On the one person that understood her pain; herself.
And the questions that I would ask myself was
Why would her mother allow that to continue
Why did she insinuate that she was faking and wanted some attention
But the condition that her mother be in when she be sippin
She be tripping

At the age of 8 her segregated bruises caused confusion
Infused with the illusion that retribution was the solution for misguided youths
She disguised the truth for a side of proof
But nobody listened

Cause by age 15 she had gotten used to it
Coming home from school she would just go through with it.
It's ludicrous
Refusing to quit on life she would write words
As beautiful as the sunflowers in the summertime.
He would pull her top down in the summertime
& say You're mine
You see sometimes her days were warm
As if her smile melted any negative emotion in her presence.
But most times, well most days, played out as cold as the heart of dying star
Hiding scars that resemble the pain she endured when she was only 8
When she was raped for the 1st time
But is it worth crying when dying is the only thing
That rings through her conscious
Cause no amount of crunches could convince her that abstinence was not in his plans
When his hand rubbed across her adolescent body
For the 163rd time.
At 18 she was heard crying cause she was made aware that Uncle Ren had died
But don't be confused
These were not tears for the death of his flesh
These were tears for the death of his breath
That pressed forcefully against her right ear
While he was engaged in sexual motion
The notion that was never spoken
For 10 years she was broken
Praying and hoping for a day of peace
She would cry every night when she sleeps
Ironic that when he died
She was the one that could rest in peace
See that's deep so I'll repeat.
She would cry every night when she sleeps
Ironic that when he died
She was the one that could rest in peace
See, don't stress, don't weep
Just greet the present with presents of grace, mercy and forgiveness
And forgive

Cause at the age of 8 her segregated bruises had caused confusion
Infused with the illusion that retribution was the solution for misguided youths
She disguised the truth for a side of proof but nobody listened
But God.

Lord I need you
Lord I need you