Sometimes I wonder, who am I?
The one who lost herself to diffidence.
The one who concealed her true self for appearance.
Sometimes I ask myself, why am I lost?
To please patriarchy’s eyes,
While I weep inside for my valour’s demise.
Sometimes I think, why do few?
Judge me for my looks at a glance.
But don’t give my emotions a chance.
Sometimes I’m confused, what am I?
A human or society’s clay?
Who play with me anyway,
Who are blind about my numbed feelings,
Who see me as an object not knowing,
About What I’m dealing.
What I’m fighting everyday.
I often stumble upon this inner debate,
But always have a glimmer of faith.
Crumbling my self hate,
With words of respect.
For my valour to resurrect.