Every morning, in front of the mirror,
She sees her life in a new color,
Bestowed by the man her Ma and Pa chose,
With trust; asking him to promise,
To love and care. To protect her. Always.
Through her black-eyes, she sees
New bruises of angry nights adorned in blue,
And faded yellow scars, old and tired,
Frustration and fear wrapped in pink,
Dark red stains of broken skin and heart,
O’ yes, her life is depreciatingly colorful,
Filled with the colors of his brutality,
Signed in her destroyed body and soul.
And everyone still says only one thing:
‘He is a man. You’ve to bear it.’
She swallows her butchered
Heart down, back inside, just for the sake
Of an old father, and a withered mother,
Along with the words buzzing
At the tip of her tongue:
‘I am human.
I hurt, as well, just as much.’
Ps. To all men. Please! Stop domestic violence…
It’s cruel. Brutal. And heartless.
Love the woman who has given her everything to you…
Don’t use her as your punching bag. Please…