Men were a Foreign Land.

Men were a foreign land,
they were alien.
Weird.
Forbidden.

Evil,
her mother would whisper as they past a herd of them.
Filthy dogs,
she would mutter as their eyes traced along my body.
Nothing but a waste of God's time.
She would grab my arm and pull me along quickly out of their eye range.
I could still feel their eyes.

I found a picture of a man once in my mother's jewelery box.
Black and white it was.
He was smiling,
happy.
My mother walked in.
Snatched the picture from my hands.
She sent me to my room.
A bright red mark on my left cheek.
No dinner.
No nothing.

When I finally found the courage,
I asked her,
"Who is my father?"
Silence.
Silence.
"Your father is a ghost."
He must haunt her,
I thought,
since she never touched another man.
Never loved another.
"They're all dogs."
She stood from the table and went to her room.
No Good night.
No nothing.