by Akshara Babu

Living,

I am girl as old as 7300 days,
5 foot 7 of laughter and smiles,
With happy and tired eyes looking my way.

I like spending my time with my best friend Jack,
Gosh his jokes are so whack
Relishing my coffee with milk and Hershey kisses
I was a happy girl…

Until I met you that night
The way you held me, no it didn’t feel so right
The way you looked at me, the grip around my wrists so tight
That day I knew monsters weren’t under my bed but under your skin
Roses didn’t seem red but instead felt dead
God… I am so stupid

Breathing,

You see I am girl as old as 7300 nights
Doesn’t own a name but a title of a victim
With pitiful eyes looking my way
I don’t spend time with Jack but my therapist Jill,
No more coffees and Hershey kisses,
But wine and happy pills.

You know I thought it was my fault until I saw
A boy with the same look in his eyes as yours
And I realise now,
The measure of my skirt is not the measure of my consent,
The measure of my fear is not the measure of your powers,
The measure of your strength is not the measure of my weakness.

I am the beauty in this story and you are the hellhound, a beast
I am not an object of your pleasure,
But an embodiment of thoughts and wild creations.

My heart will always speak louder than your actions and satisfactions
You are not beguile but so goddamn vile,
I am not stupid but I am a fire of resilience.

I am not your plaything
I am living.

(Writer is a student of MES Higher Secondary School)