Categories
POETRY

STOCKHOLM SYNDROME

She was caught like a stalked game
…folded like a foldable chair and tied with goat ropes
Then thrown onto the back seat
…of the Corona
Her screams cut off by a chloroform

II
She woke to sounds without faces
Her blindfold, thicker than a myth
She was fed
…bathed
…abused
…raped
And threatened every second of her consciousness
Afiba was made a dog to fear
…her heart barking at every shadow of a sound

III
Days felt like years
…before her father’s semi-assurance boomed on a phone
Her gods cutting her father short at his comma
…killing the birth of his full stop of a sure rescue
As the rape tonned down
…her little lady wept for what had become an addiction
What was worse?
She craved for it through to the abuse

IV
The quadruple doses their sticks poked
…before and after breakfast
…called for double quadruples
Until her mouth begged for it
She turned slave to their waist caves
So food for life
…then foods of lives served by many waist bowls
…at once
Her hell turning her heaven of addiction

V
A day saw her eyes freed
…as her abusers’ faces turned seeds
…to plant themselves in her heart
Love blossomed from their cruel power
Forcing her submission to their cause

VI
When a day saw her freed
Her tongue refused to testify
Her heart began to hate the very state
…which changed her sour fate
The heaven she knew through her hell
…called in an obsession
Buying disdain for her father’s rescue
So she sneaked to have her doses
Until the law followed her steps to arrest
…her foes turned fiendish friends
She was livid!

VII
She called the law out on their evil
“I love the savage ravage of my abusers
My life is mine to live
…either with my friends or foes”
But the law heard not her pleas to stop meddling
…and dragged her Gods to its hell
Burning her desire into the ashes of anger to blow with tantrum winds towards all

VIII
Annoyed by her father’s betrayal of not fixing
…her addicted heaven
She drank all her sober aids
…and took shade under death’s umbrella
Leaving her poor father a depressed wreck
It was the psychiatrist who told him what happened
…to his then deceased daughter
…a Stockholm Syndrome
And he vowed to be an advocate
…to save the world from this state
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © February 5, 2020

By amoafowaa

Just a simple Ghanaian trying to find the best in our society. I may be fun, I may be interesting, I may be funny, I may even be foolish or intelligent, but it is all based on the mood in which you find yourself. I believe our minds make us who we are. Know that, pain, no matter its 'unbearability', is transient. Unburden or delight yourself for a while in my writings please. And all corrections, advice and opinions are welcome. Know that you are the king, queen or royal on this blog. :)

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