She stands in front of her apartment,
holding the keys,afraid,
its her daily ritual,
while opening the door,
so many emotions replayed.
After a day again at the office,
servile with a tedious grin,
starving herself loveless thin,
taking the unbroken strain,
to ease the constant pain.
She walks with fear in every room,
her bed..a tearful tomb,
that holds memories of a day,
to forget..the gods,she prays,
cries,aware of her abused womb.
A victim of man's carnal desire,
who was sentenced..yet its she,
who faces alone the fire,
trying to purify herself,through immolate tears,
forget his words still fresh in her ears.
She has covered the chair where he had,
forced her..and made her,dirty,
she has taken to surgery,
removing scars of injury,
but is weak..seeing the scars within.
Without a womb,damaged when she aborted,
Is she even a Woman?She asks..
Incapable of loving or being loved,
sobbing everytime when she sees the gloved,
hands around her wrists,
being pummelled by his fists.
Her fiance,left,she couldnt cure,
a mind that thinks her impure,
But he was just the start,
Of the pain society imparts,
by planting pity...the insensitive city.
Its time she decides,to let them free,
of her..lying in that bed,
where in a pool of blood,the medics once found her,
today,they will find her clutching her razor,
her wrists releasing life..imbibing death.
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