By Priyanshi Gaur
She tried to forget that last night,
But her thoughts kept firing, a blazing ignite.
Afraid of what she'd been through again and again,
Still, her mind bore the weight, the silent domain.
She gathered her shattered pieces from the floor,
Rose to her feet—she wouldn't take it anymore.
Hoping a hot shower might wash it away,
Like a veil of fog to keep the pain at bay.
But left with warmth, standing bare and still,
She questioned herself—“Am I the one who’s ill?”
Yet she whispered softly, “I’m not weak, I’m strong,”
Trying to soothe the doubt that felt so wrong.
She spoke to her soul, “I’m good, I’m true,
Maybe I just misunderstood what I went through.”
Still angry, still haunted by memories dim,
She vowed to survive, to fight, to swim.
Once again, she picked her broken self up,
No matter how hard, she didn't give up.