I bled from day to day,
Either it was day in or day out,
Every day I bled, sometimes in agony,
Sometimes physically, when I concluded as the polluted one.
Being a woman wasn't my fault,
I said to myself whenever I bled.
I saw many women blaming life while bleeding,
But I never did.
Though I called it God's treasure,
Not realizing that I'm going to hear it as shame
While saying it out loud,
Or pollution from people
While bleeding throughout the nights and days.
I bled in buses, autorickshaws, taxis, nights, days,
Verandahs, schools, workplaces—
Everywhere I could.
But every time I bled, they knew me as the polluted one.
Bleeding, which is as natural as breathing,
Becomes the agony of a woman's life
Where it is concluded as pollution.
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Ink And Rhymes: A Teenager Poet's Diary
PoetryInk and Rhyme: A Teenage Poet's Diary invites you to join me on a heartfelt journey through life's emotional landscape. This collection captures the essence of fleeting childhood memories, the soothing comfort of rainy days spent gazing out the wind...
