I keep my medications under the sink, under the bed hidden because Ma thinks a smiling face is always happy and therapy is a myth.
Her face is a warzone of all the anger my father keeps on his fingertips and serves it to her from the day she decided to question the lavender smell from his blue shirt because she knows he keeps perfumes away from his skin as he keeps her away from smiles.
Because women to him are objects and mere objects that he wishes to keep holding in his hands wishing they don’t melt away from their anger, from lavender scents.
The walls of my house have gone deaf through the screams and shout it hears 6 days out of 7. While other women in the building are brave enough to hear them and not shed a tear for humanity. Because women are the same all around the world for they hide out scars from last night under 3 layers of makeup and judge the one showing their long legs under a tulip mustard dress.
But ma calls abuse as adjustments because she says if you talk your voice over men they'll cut your tongue leaving them hanging from your mouth until you bleed and die and because revolution is harder than oppression, and because patriarchy never existed it just the way a man lives and women are meant to live and at the end of the day boys will be boys.