Hi, my name is Zaina Kungwa and I know people will think I was abused but to be honest I don’t know what it feels like so one day I tried to picture what it would be like so I wrote a poem so here goes:
Protector,provider those are the conotation to the word father.
I always thought it was going to be a stranger an unkown mister but rather it was my father. He imparted fears and tears within me and i always wanted to depart. He was never my father. I had to be protected from him
He was never my Protector
I was taught from a young age never to trust because obviously i will be left in the dust. He would shower me with kisses and call me his princess, mind you not in the way a father should. He would beat me when I cried and be happy when I obeyed he was never my Protector
I never felt warmth or love but i always craved it. He was strong alright but not to protect. I would quiver and cower away when he came. Nobody knew.
He was never my protector