By Sabhyata Ravjani
She sits on her bed,
9 PM on the clock,
her little diary by the bed
as she goes through the pages.
The screams of help muffled
by her larger-than-required self respect,
as she calls it.
It showed her perseverance;
she appeared to be fixated on trying
to never yield in to the darkness,
enduring it all with great fortitude.
She prayed and prayed
with patience lurking, almost departed
but she believed in Him,
despite all that has transpired.
Still, at the end of every day,
she would convince herself to
pick up the broken pieces of glass
before dawn breaks out and
the careful early risers trip over it
and discover the small shard of it
that had cut through their skin when
trying to clean up the mess.
She sighs.
contemplating it all for the millionth time.
Her self-restraint not allowing herself
to open the door to anyone who draws courage to ring the bell.
At last, she forced herself to
shut the diary and lock it up,
away in an unprocurable drawer.
She tells herself goodnight and
hopes for a convenient tomorrow.
By Sabhyata Ravjani
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