Her demise...

As days pass by and her fear surfaces, 

She clings tight to herself during the nights,

The loneliness of her life, clearly visible in those eyes, 

The eyes, which had gotten her a thousand compliments, 

Before, they buried her soul deep in the soil. 

Shattered into pieces, uncountable, 

Her life, a true story of betrayal, 

A heart, punctured as if it was a balloon, 

Her soul yelling from the suffering she faced in during her life.  

She lived a life of a slave, 

Her once beautiful hands, 

Now narrated the story of an untold era of pain, 

The marks on her face were put there, 

To be a constant reminder of the change, 

Of the courage she had to take the less travelled path. 

It appeared to the world, that she did all of this to gain sympathy, 

But what sympathy could do to a heart which was stabbed by the ones she called her own?

What sympathy could do to the face which was destroyed, by the constant beatings?

What sympathy could do to her soul, which now rests in the lap of the one who created her and her misery full life?

She died, not wanting sympathy, but someone to call her own. 

What sympathy could do to her, what help will it provide?

What was her mistake?

Falling in love with the one who promised her to take all her sorrows away?

Or being courageous enough to accept it and face the world all alone?

Or trusting those, who promised her all the happiness in this world, the ones who were entitled to her property after her death?

The ones she called her family, who portrayed her death as suicide, those mean creatures did survive, 

And she lost her battle & her smile.