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΅ ❧ ΅
the daughter wishes for justice-- of the walls, she cleaned of her mother's echoing yells, the daughter sweeps still, the remains of her dreams before they catch dust.
the daughter keeps staring at her brother's accomplishments hanging from the walls, the daughter keeps mewling, she was asked to be quiet-- so she whispers to her God.
the daughter will be an offering to a man who wouldn't know the beauty of her feminity, the daughter will be taken for granted by the women who were once daughters with dreams.
the daughter will stay at the memorial; her bones sizzling with acidic blood from her ancestors, while the sons take the lands and the bungalows, the daughter will inherit the sorrow of her father's misplaced anger.
the daughter will be birthed by a mother who once grew up watching her predecessor weep behind her saree, the daughter will be cursed with the same expectations that will be expected from her offspring.
the daughter won't be touched by her man with love, respect or true desire, the daughter won't experience the warmth of peace unless she's lying on a funeral pyre.
the daughter will live to be known as his scion, his wife or perhaps his mother or a mistress, the daughter will survive all the pain when she carries his child with all and every inconvenience.
the daughter will breed and care and work in despair and she will be shamed for that, she would decorate the lights on the high ceilings of festivals only to fade in the background.
the daughter ages well with yet another generation of men who take over her wishes, the daughter never tells how she's never heard her laughter even though it stands in the block letters as the title.
΅ ❧ ΅
a/n: inspired by my mother's contagious giggles, euphoric grins and hard-earned laughter.
