I was asked to be perfect

To be gentle, to be polite

Must not talk back, must not shout

Must obey, must behave

But why? What for?

His actions are mine to be blamed

It’s always my clothes and not his eyes

It’s always my behaviour and never his indocility

Seen as a child by his parents

Seen as a hero by his sibling

Seen as a disciple by his teachers

But seen as a predator by me

The screen of stereotype where ‘men will be men’,

‘Boys will be boys’ should burn

Till I can blow it’s ash for all the sister’s that I lost

My strength and pride will go a long way

I will fight and will rise, till I can see

The clouds of dreams of my lost sisters’.