I thought it was endured by the weak and the infirm
But I’ve had the strength to wink at it, the tireless years confirm
Another astray belief- it homes well with just the inerudite
But despite my academic schooling, I’m yet another number to the plight
Every morning calls for an artful facelift for a propped up self-esteem
That’s beaten up to a pulp in the recurring chauvinistic regime
The elusive tenacity of the abusive episodes. delude more often than not
Fostering a deceitful hope that the offensiveness just may now stop
The strength of character, the prime mover, for the assault to survive
Is barbarically put to shame in the moments of aggressive strife
The self-reproach at taking, the repeated uncalled-for beating
Alienates me from any rescuer, through his strategic isolating
The worse possible affliction is this form of suffering and abuse
Where wounds don’t show up for any injury to deduce