By-Priyanka Bharati
Even today, she shivers every night before her sleep
she smiles a lot but beyond it, no one sees her weep
can share it with no one, and to no one can she explain
for its been a long time to that story, there's no point feeling the pain
she's an excellent actor, no one will ever realize her actual struggle
between a heartily laugh and the memory of every lonely night she has to juggle
everyone knows the story but no one knows it didn't really end
even today if she's alone she goes back to the time when she was barely 10
amidst a room full of people, she stands all alone
yes she has lots of friends now but back then, she was all on her own
for her parents had chosen their career over their daughter
they assumed she'll be fine & are still unaware of the slaughter
thank god she was too young, too young to remember the whole of 2 years
glimpses of the past occur in bits and pieces and it takes a while till it clears
lying on the bed alone today when she's 20, she couldn't help but cry
even though a lot of time has passed but the wounds aren't yet dry
for she remembers sleeping the exact same way, crying in her room everyday alone,
crossing off the days & counting when she'll see back her dad and mom
promise that they'll meet her every weekend they didn't keep,
for every such weekend she had a silent shout and make herself count sheep
so she couldn't hear, see or feel her mom dad for months at stretch,
those days were mostly spent closed in a room, eyes wet, stuck in a bed
did they not love her? did money matter more? thinking of it she'd eventually fall asleep
every morning hoping to wake up in her mom's arms, only to realise she cried last night to sleep
those days are only in her mind, never can be shared
how she wishes if all of it was just a story that about someone else she'd read
for I don't think anyone can ever understand her fury, anger & excruciating pain
that makes her shiver every night, every morning her eyes wander just to make sure it didn't happen again
The little girl that died in those two years still haunts her from the inside
She is now always lonely even with a hundred people sitting beside.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
This poem has been published in the book 'The Last Flower Of Spring'. Buy the paperback copy on Amazon: https://tinyurl.com/y9sydnxn