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Colors - Shrinkhala Khatiwada (Miss Nepal's spoken words poetry)

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Full poem:


I was 9 years old,
When I sold my nudity
To a man 10 years older,
for some yellow candies.
As he stripped my pink princess dress off
I was no longer
My red cheeks or my big brown eyes
For him,
I was my pink vagina,
I was my ungrown breasts
I was my pale nipples.
An innocent 9 year old was now,
Just. Another. Naked. Female. Body.

I stood there in spotlight
As he touched his private parts
Making faces that I could not recognize
And yet..
I smiled.
I smiled and I said yes, I said yes and I smiled
I said YES.. cause..
That’s what you are supposed to do, right?
Say yes and smile to any man, who
Sugarcoats words and offers them to you like candies
Who calls you the prettiest little girl in the world.

Seven years later, riding my bike through the mustards fields,
The yellow suddenly blinds me.
As the image of him, his face, his grin as he opened his palms
Offering me my favorite yellow candies
Hits me!
The image of him,
as he pushed my head against the cold walls,
As he unzipped his blue jeans,
As he forced himself inside me.
As he pulled my hair from behind,
As he turned my neck, exposing my bare skin,
As his hot breath passed through the nape of my neck,
As he whispered,
“You are a very good girl. You won’t tell anyone about this, right?”

Ever since, I’ve started hating the colors.
I’ve stopped getting up early to see the sunrise,
The orange reminds me of the sweater I wore,
The first time he touched me.
I’ve cut all the roses,
They remind me of him, as he grabbed my breasts
As he pulled back, wiping my blood off his lips
As he sucked the life out of mine.
I hate the green grasses,
They remind me of his evil green eyes,
his pastel green bedroom walls.
I’m scared of the sunsets,
They remind me of everything that I have lost.
My innocence.
My dignity.
That cold December night when I lost my body.

I’ve repainted my house grey now.
I love my barren, lifeless garden.
I’ve put up thick curtains,
And I always make sure that the drapes are shut.
I hate the mirrors. They’re liars!
They see me as my curvy silhouettes but,
I am just my skin and bones.
I don’t have curves,
I have sharp edges.
They’re liars! Colorful, ugly, liars!

I can’t let a lover in
without feeling a strong punch in my gut,
a big lump in my throat
They always come with colors!
Blue eyes or green,
Red shirt or brown
Roses or lilies.
Why don’t you understand that colors scare me?

Loneliness always comes in black or grey,
I’ve found solace in the darkness
It feels like my home now.

Until one day,
When I was 22,
Reading a book at a coffee shop,
The book read
“We accept the love we think we deserve.”
As the echo of my voice said,
“You deserve better! You deserve better!”
I Deserve Better!

The next morning,
I woke up early to see the sunrise.
As I found enough courage in me to open the drapes,
As the first rays of sun touched my skin
Like sunlight, piercing its way through the dark clouds into a gloomy day,
In the reflection,
I saw a Rainbow!
For the first time in forever,
I accepted myself.
I was all my experiences.
I was all my memories.
I was all the reds and the blues and the greens
I was a Rainbow
I was Beautiful!

August 13, 2015

She looked at the reflection in the mirror. She looked closely at that face. Same big, brown eyes, same rounded nose, same dark eyebrows, same thin lips, same rosy cheeks, and the same pale skin. None of her features had changed except the length of her hair. She looked at that wooden mirror frame that hadn't even been slightly moved since the day they moved into that house. She looked at the same chipped paint on her bedside that she had been meaning to paint over. She looked at the red velvety carpet on her floor. She looked at the dusty books on the book rack. She looked around. Nothing, NOTHING had changed!.. And yet everything felt different. Everything was different.
The tide in her heart hadn't settled yet. Her smeared mascara had dried up under her eyes. Her lips trembling. Tears dried up. She just gazed into nothingness. Motionless! Images and movements playing in her mind on repeat. Memories, sad memories, hurtful memories of the time she wished she could forget. But how could she? How could she completely erase a scar so deep? How could she ever forget that quiet night of October. The night when she wanted her silence to be heard the most! The night her silent mourn disappeared into the vast pile of sadness.


and this - nice video



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