The Ordeals. Poem by Arfa Iris

though my experience is little,
i have seen people change for trifle.
my wounds who try to nurse,
on my back they scratch it and curse,

their manner seemed to be very polite,
yet they stab me from back side.
i used to believe them every time,
& they always exploited innocence of mine.

they scratch wounds, when its about to heal,
& add more to my 'lot of ordeal'
they try to pester me more & more.
i try to forgive them and ignore.

but they keep crossing my way,
and plan hurdles even at bay,
i do stumble, but never give up.
and have learned to stand up,
& face every hurdle they plan,
& with a smile to receive their damn.