and as i cough up my faith

i sneer down at your modesty,
i spit out your teachings
on the floor of our sacred place.

and as you force me on my
knees, splinters biting into
soft skin, i will not cry,
but instead laugh at your violent ways.

the blood on your hands,
the blood of people like me,
the blood that can never be washed
away? 

it stains you. it stains you and
your so called safe place.

lessons to be learned,
dark red spattered against
white snow.

a skirt tugged down,
a scowling face as she
tries to run.

my eyes are sore from
watching my imaginary 
monsters laugh at me
as i scream.

the taste of tea, first sweet,
then bitter, hot and thick,
clogs my throat as
i cough.

i look up to the sky,
praying, praying, praying,
but no one ever listens
to the thoughts of
a girl who cannot speak.