By Vineetha Deepak
That day,
a part of her died.
Her soul lost every hope.
Her dream lost its purpose
and life, its worth.
Hiding in the darkness,
Amidst the shadows,
Having lost the battle
and everything for it.
How easy it is to be replaced…
How words are the sharpest weapon…
How easy it is to be manipulated…
How delicate a heart is…
When the one to be blamed
is none but of your blood.
And the day she realized,
she finally got hurt.
Hurt by her pain!