By Ankita Chatterjee
I think, something died in me
The day you called me a fraud;
The day you heard my voice for the first time
And gave a fake applaud.
Something broke in me
When you looked at me and saw a lair;
When I dared show you my burns
But you didn't see any fire.
You were my pride;
My strength, my shield!
But you made me question it
When you called me weak.
Why didn't you hesitate?
Why was it so easy -
To put me at fault,
To assume I was guilty?