The little girl

There’s the little girl, the product of a sex accident
             that forced her parents to marry.
There’s the little girl whose up-bringing made her introverted,
             shy, anxious, distrustful, and wary.
There’s the little girl who never was her daddy’s little girl.
There’s the little girl who sees herself as a piece of shit rather than like a pearl.
There’s the little girl beaten up for not feeling like eating the food in front of her
             —shoe, belt, spatula, whatever came under hand.
There’s the little girl made to sit at the plate anyway until it’s empty in the end.
There’s the little girl who learnt not to cry in front of people
             else she’d be given a valid reason to cry about.
There’s the little girl who only has the right to shut up and obey, ’cause she’s but a lout.
There’s the little girl whose only purpose is to please and make content those around her,
             or at least not bother them with her existence.
There’s the little girl with no self-esteem nor self-confidence.
There’s the little girl who has been brought up hearing how incompetent and incapable
             of making it in the real world she is, so she came to believe it.
There’s the little girl, the biggest disappointment to her parents,
             who never does anything right, the dimwit.
There’s the little girl not entitled to display feelings or have her own opinions
             because of the real world she supposedly has no clue.
There’s the little girl who long ago ceased to even dare
             to have a will or dreams of her own to pursue.
There’s the little girl no one wants to pick for their team during PE lessons,
             so she always ends up on the bench with the fat kid.
There’s the little girl schoolmates are not inclined to come visit
             because her dad is loud and scary and somewhat feared.
There’s the little girl who rarely goes to school trips to avoid having to ask money from dad
             and listening to him fuss about how expensive it is.
There’s the little girl no one cares for unless it’s to copy homework or a test
             or to be examined to save everyone else.
There’s the little girl no mates come to take for talk-walks after school
             because she has to sweep all the floors and do the dishes first.
There’s the little girl faking preparing for school and studying because that’s
             her only refuge from housework to which she’d be otherwise employed-forced.
There’s the little girl who cleans the whole house on Saturdays since about twelve
             because her mom either cooks, takes care of younger siblings, or works on those days.
There’s the little girl, surprisingly, not allowed to cook herself
             because she doesn’t know to do it in the proper ways.
There’s the little girl never doing satisfactory enough a job with any housework,
             however much she tries, whatever she may do.
There’s the little girl only valued at school, so that’s what she stuck to.
There’s the little girl who has to lay still while her dad pops her zits
             holding her down with his whole body weight and brute force.
There’s the little girl so ashamed of her old folks
             she never invites anyone home in her life’s after-primary-school course.
There’s the little girl who doesn’t go out in the evenings because she can’t stay past 10,
             when the fun only just begins, although she’s already of age.
There’s the little girl who is interrogated like a crime suspect every time she does go out,
             especially to the town, baselessly mistrusted to not start hooking around and smoking gage.
There’s the little girl never truly befriended by anyone,
             and especially never noticed by boys because of how weird she is.
There’s the little girl unable to interact with men without being very anxious,
             let alone form with them any relationships.
There’s the little girl still treated like a little stupid girl
             although she is twice, thrice as old now.
There’s the little girl dying for a little bit of validation
             of her worth as a human being without having to kowtow.
There’s the little girl all over again every time her love’s rejected and her heart in debris.
There’s the little girl, always, and the little girl is me.