The Voice
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anushkapragya17Indian; sixteen; poetry is my solace!
Autoplay OFF  •  10 months ago

The Voice

by anushkapragya17

The little girl was playing without the knowledge of the cruel world; In her gullible mind, no fear of the darkness hurled.

But the one assault was enough to switch off the beautiful lights; Even without realising it, everything dimmed, which was once bright.

What she held out wasn't 'trust', for she didn't know what it was; In mere oblivion, she was unaware of being surrounded by the sharp claws

Although she'd been scarred for life, she couldn't decipher what happened; But the voice which could've expressed her, had been given an end.

In another part of the world, a young beauty walked her way; But the inner charm had been killed by some beasts, like child's play.

Maybe she could've protested, she wasn't shackled in any rope; But the disgusted looks of the society shattered every remaining hope.

She too was hushed down, as she walked with a low-hung head; Another voice, capable of bringing a change, was unsurprisingly dead.

Somewhere in a dark corner, deprived of family and wealth; Sat an old woman, left behind by physical and emotional health.

What added to the misery was the abuse she had to bear; Some heartless humans had caused the erosion of her self-pride's layer.

The last days of her life too, weren't void of pain and sorrow; All light left her world, not even to return through the Sun of tomorrow.

She wanted to vent out what she felt, though if it all she couldn't undo; But her voice too was suppressed, for there was no one she could speak to.

In varied cases of different females, the outcome was roughly same; Even with the right to express, the needed justice, they could not claim.

The little child's oblivion, the young girl's compulsion, and the old lady's loneliness; Had ultimately lead to just one thing- a huge, unending mess.

Their conditions would've been better had they been able to let it all out; If the voice was allowed to wander free, agony and frustration wouldn't have gotten to sprout.

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anushkapragya17Bronze CommaIndian; sixteen; poetry is my solace!
10 months agoReply
@bernardtwindwil I wish to do so, grandpa, I wish to do so! All the years of silence now need to be compensated. Thanks for giving me the support of the grandfather i never had! :)

bernardtwindwilGold CommaGranddad & story teller, tomthepo8.com
10 months agoReply
Anushka, your revenge is in surviving. You voice is loud and clear. You have earned the right to eloquence. Your writings will over the years console many, inspire many, and teach many. By your written word, you have built your house in my heart. You will not meerly survive you will prevail.

bernardtwindwilGold CommaGranddad & story teller, tomthepo8.com
10 months agoReply
My child, I am in awe of your writing. This was well written it contained a meter that rolled it right along. All the words were well chosen. You worked on this. You are an incredible talent. Great poem!!!!