Silent Scars that Speak

Abhinav Patel

In the dark corners of the human mind,
Lurks a perverse pleasure in violent views we find.
When pain and abuse are created beyond measure,
The bonds of love and faith become a poisonous treasure.

This toxic rope tightens around the throat,
Killing hope and leaving dreams afloat.
The eyes of the abuser gleam with sick intentions,
Their terrible invention causes untold dimensions.

Though once a different man, now consumed by the same
Feelings of thrill intensify and life becomes a game.
The heart forgets all but the desire to kill,
The wife and daughter no longer feel the thrill.
The child bride married without a choice,
Protectors become predators, leaving her voice so coy.
Her once bright future turns black,
She becomes a toy bird, her soul under attack.

Her mind a broken shelf, a writer of a tragic tale,
Struggling to keep her voice low, her courage about to fail.
Words like a sharp knife cut through her heart,
Physical wounds and scars tearing her apart.

Stability of mind lost, trapped in an endless hell,
Suffering with no cost, her story hard to tell.
Her body just a home for disease,
Her beauty of soul, impossible to seize.

Lost and failed in this life,
Her broken pieces of heart, hard to strive.
But within the darkness, a glimmer of hope shines,
Her courage and strength, never to resign.

The path to healing is long and hard,
But with each step, a victory card.
The scars may never fully heal,
But the light within her soul, will never yield.

For every tragedy and every pain,
She will find a way to rise again.
A testament to the human spirit and its power,
A beacon of hope in the darkest hour.

She walks in the shadows, unnoticed and unseen
A woman, a girl, a victim of a machine
A machine built on power, on control, on lust
A machine that strips her of her dignity and trust

She was taught to be quiet, to never make a sound
To accept the pain, the shame, and never turn around
To keep her head down, and hide her bruises and scars
To be a silent witness to the cruelty of men’s wars

She was told that she’s weak, that she can’t fight back
That her body is theirs, a possession to attack
That she deserves it, that she’s the one to blame
That her voice is worthless, that her life is a game

But she’s not just a body, a toy, a slave
She’s a human being, with a soul, with a brave
She’s a survivor, a fighter, a force to be reckoned
A woman who refuses to be silenced or broken

She rises from the ashes, like a phoenix in flight
With a voice that’s louder, with a will to fight
She stands up to her abuser, to the system that failed
To the culture that taught her to be weak and pale

She demands justice, respect, and equality
She challenges the norms, the rules, the authority
She refuses to be a victim, a statistic, a name
She chooses to be a survivor, a warrior, a flame

She finds support, love, and hope in her sisters
In the women who share her pain, her fears, her blisters
In the allies who stand by her side, who believe in her cause
Who fight with her, for her, against the invisible claws

She rebuilds her life, one step at a time
With the scars that remind her of the mountain she climbed

With the memories that haunt her, but no longer define
With the dreams that inspire her, the future that shines

She became a toy, a bird whose wings were clipped,
Her mind became a broken shelf, and her spirit was stripped.
The writer of her story forgot herself, lost in her own pain,
She struggled to remain silent, even though speaking out could have
saved her life, in vain.