The Silent Warrior

The malicious bated breaths

Scathe her skin, burning it;

With agony and impotency

Every glorious evening,

When the sun sets in the horizon;

And it is time for her to return.

The pressing of the bodies;

As the breaks screech onto a stop,

An illustrious chance for the wolves, 

To prey upon her soul with their hollow eyes,

As she clings tightly to the suspended loop,

In utter despair and dejection.

The vicious shadows lurk in the darkness

When she treads towards the unlit alley

Their petrifying smiles following her,

As she hastens her gait, breaking into a run;

The cold-hearted laughter and snarls,

Rendering her soul in cold fright.

Home feels distant, miserable and cold;

When she steps into the threshold and sees;

Him standing there with his bottle of wine,

Ready to drag her down the hallway,

Clutching her hair with all his might;

His hands tainting her face with bruises.

The tears burn her throat, 

Threatening to strangle and choke her,

Her silhoutte rocks back and forth in despair

Her eyes wide open devoid of emotions,

While he sleeps soundlessly in peace

In the dead quiet hour of the night.

An etch of mirth threatens to come out,

When she sees those very perpetrators;

Fighting their way through the crowd,

To enter the towering sacred temple;

And present their offerings and prayers,

To the Goddess every year.

Those very men who disrespect her;

Treat her as a possession,

They who threaten her safety,

And enjoy making her drown in fear,

Today rush towards the temple;

To touch the feet of the Goddess.

She breaks every day little by little,

But she doesn't voice out her pain;

She doesn't protest,

For she is a woman

And aren't women taught to 

Bear all their agony with a smiling face?

The scars that adorn her body,

Whisper the story of her Flounders, despondency and affliction.

The waves that crash in the abyss,

Of solitude strength and silence;

Marking her; a warrior,

For she fights a battle with life everyday.