They say
I didn’t fight enough
They don’t know
How my body aches
How my body has
Lost the feeling to
Feel the pain.
They say
I didn’t raise my voice enough
They don’t know
How my throat itches
How my voice has
Completely lost the feeling to
Feel the voice.
They say
I did not repulse
I did not revolt
They say the fault
Is mine.
I can’t blame anyone
They say
That I was wrong
And they were right
They were strong
And I was weak.
They say
My demeanor should be composed
My anger should be subsumed
They say
It is not a big thing
It is just a passing fling.
They say
I am the devil
I am my own fall
They say
I am the ill
I am the cause.
They say
I didn’t fight enough
They say
I didn’t raise my voice enough
They don’t know
My lungs gave way
Screaming into void
They don’t know
That my armor
Rests in peace
Fighting for my life.
Yet they say
I didn’t revolt
Yet they say
I was wrong and they
Were strong
They don’t know
That my blood
Distanced itself from my heart
They don’t know
That my soul embittered
On my body.
These “they”
Who are they?
Who are they
To make me the evil
Who are they
To judge me
For being the devil?
They don’t know me
Let alone my soul
They can’t judge me
Unless they can tell me
That they have fought
More than me
That they have
Screamed
Longer than me.
They don’t know me
They don’t know my battle
And yet,
“They” say….
*
I still refrain to even believe in my rarest imaginations that I am anywhere near being a poet, despite all your comments on my previous posts. So, again I call this a vain attempt to try and write in as limited words as possible, and to express as far and as truthfully I can.
Moushmi Radhanpara 
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