It is all blur.

I suddenly wake up in the middle of the night.
I am sweating despite the cooling is just fine.
I feel a lump forming in my throat.
Was it a dream? Or was it the truth?

I grew up.
From 7 to 17 to 25
I forgot about it, I learnt how to smile.
But still, it sometimes creeps into my bed at night.
And sometimes comes back to haunt me in the daylight.

A little girl playing with her doll,
and then comes a demon dressed in white.
And that is when I wake up every time.

Sometimes it was a box of chocolates.
On the others, colors to fill in my drawings.
I remember it in bits and pieces,
or maybe it is just the denial.
For no childhood should be this scared,
so black and white.

It is all blur.
I wish what is left of it hazes too.
It is all blur.
I refuse to believe it is true.

In India, according to the latest government figures, a child is sexually abused every 15 minutes. Research suggests that child abuse leaves deep scars and gives rise to issues including substance abuse, anxiety, depression, and post-traumatic stress disorder. This poem highlights how a victim of child abuse clenches to the incident all her life even after desperate attempts to forget it. Child abuse is a serious concern that we as a society need to acknowledge and do something about.

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