Injured

The violet shattering of glass.

The redness spread over the wreckage.

Blues of the nerves and wounds on my body,

Everything spoke of the chaos,

Around the perimeter of my feet.

The torn clothes under the bed,

Echoed the cries of my tormented soul.

They weep along the dirge of my throat.

Reality couldn't withstand the weight, expectations had.

Agony of words spoke louder,

And the physical pain screamed harder everyday.

Just when the color of mehandi began to lose its charm,

The beauty of sindoor made me look ugly.

The dreams of a happy marriage looked obscene now,

Nothing much is left.

A soul to filter courage,

Bruises to remind of evil deeds and

Broken fantasies to carry further in time.

Marriage. Such a filthy word.