Daughter of the Moon

They call me Daughter of the Moon.
I was born at a time when life was cheap
And help was scarce. But they taught me
That God loves us, no matter what.
And I believed them.

They call me Daughter of the Moon.
My neighborhood was made of cardboard houses,
And we were called drunks and junkies.
I hate liquor; I abhor drugs.
Yet, my face betrays my mother’s sins.

I saw this lady the other day.
She was young and pretty.
She knew of a way to help me out.
I followed her to her beautiful home,
And she fed me for the day.
Then, she asked me to work for her,
For, she said, “You have to repay me.”
And I believed her.
Since then, I have not seen the light of day.
Since then, I have lost my way.
I am only allowed to see
The men who visit me.

Sometimes, when I cannot sleep,
I remember their tales of God.
And I feel a strange tingling in my bones.
I lust for the Love in them,
But they can only crave my body.

They call me Daughter of the Moon,
And I have been dead for ten days already.
My mother’s sins lay heavy on me,
But I am only sixteen.

© 2008 Cendrine Marrouat

Cendrine’s work:

Book: Five Years and Counting. A Journey into the Mind of Soul Poetry

Spoken word CD: Rizen

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