She sits static,

in a shabby room 

in a corner of the world

which fails to notice, 

her plight 

in a promise that was made 

without her.

The outside buzzes with a merry,

of people wreathed

in ample silks

and varying pretenses,

yet all with a cheer for a lie.

A door to the facade opens

and a galling flurry of noise

barges it’s way into her room,

Suffocating her,

like the swarm of flies

around a rotting carcass.

She sits stooped over,

The river of gold around her neck

being not the only thing weighing her down

A blemish of bruises lingers on her wrist.

Hushed,

Under a spiritless effort of henna 

She sits straight, 

when it dawns on her,

that this was the beginning of an end.

Soon,

His whispers of sweet nothings

and soft caresses that begged for pardon,

would mean nothing

as long as she was handcuffed

by that pitiful henna

And so without a warning,

Something shifts in her and

 

She stands up,

Powerful woman rising

and takes a step

Her veil slips away,

and she walks out that door.

 

Revathi is a 17-year-old who enjoys writing and reading thrillers the most. She is exactly the type to fall for good plot twists with numerous hidden details. Apart from literature, she also dabbles in Digital and Traditional art. Music is what has been closest to her since she was little, and she is a fairly good singer and a violinist (Though she forgets to practice it daily). Give her a good book, a movie, or a musical and she won’t emerge into the living world again until she’s finished with it.