By Rithika Iyer
The day broke with a gentle cajole,
As I woke myself from the night before.
I looked at myself and took in as a whole,
Me and my broken soul.
The rays of the sun whisper promises untold,
But memories from yesterday unfold.
I gently wrap myself in layers of false allure,
A fragile shield against the pain I endure.
Another day, another beginning they say,
"Keep your gloom and sorrows at bay."
But for how long will I stay
In misery, trapped like a prey?
Wounds veiled by skin, from sight they slide,
But wounds to the soul, they sting, they deride.
I gather my strength, with resolve as my guide,
Facing the world's cruelty, I shall not be denied.
I cannot obey
Rules left astray
By people who have nothing to weigh but so much to say.
But as I seek to wash away all my dismay,
It always returns to stay, to slay.
But I have to conceal and ignore
My tears from the night before,
For I have a role
And have to be in control.
I paint on a smile, a mask of grace,
Hiding the tears that stain my face,
As I smear, a line of kohl,
Under each lifeless hole.
A splash of blush
On cheeks so plush
And a coat of colour on lips so lush
Is all it takes to cover the flush,
As I lock myself away with a gentle hush.
All as I adorn a darling dress with not much reveal,
And jewellery to appeal,
Only to finally seal all I feel.
My mind echoes a mocking sneer,
As I hope for the anguish to disappear.
But healing seems distant, unclear,
As I step out to face another day, gripped by fear.
Yet, I don the guise of strength and grace,
As I walk through the world's embrace.
A silent plea for my lingering ache to efface,
As I attempt to navigate this endless maze.
With every second, every minute, I dance the charade,
A silent plea for the anguish to fade.
Yet as night falls, and darkness reigns,
The echoes of sorrow remain.
In the solitude of the night's embrace,
I confront the demons I cannot erase.
Yearning for dawn to wash away the pain,
Knowing it returns, time and again.
With each new day, I promise myself a chance to reclaim,
Collecting pieces of myself lost in the fray.
Though the wounds may linger, deep and sore,
I will strive to rise once more, stronger than before.