Paying For My Womanhood Poem by deepanshi sabnani

I haven’t used the mirror since years,
Nor do I caress my body while washing,
For the sight of wounds has always scared me since young,

A mere touch of air causes a burning sensation,
Or even the touch of fabric upon the body,
But not the touch of fire,
For I have had enough of it to turn immune,

Rope, knife, belt, shoes,
I have had every domestic weapon tried upon me,
Even love,
In its ugliest forms,

Blood,
Running down the ears,
Words transformed into swears,
I’m paying for my womanhood.

The nights are an ease to the eyes,
But the daylight turns up the horror sight,
Little creatures they share my pain,
The birds empathize and cry in vain

I ask the bird to break me into pieces and rescue,
Build me back as she builds her nest,
Or take my heart in an open field,
I want to feel the rain.