A chained soul

 Her eyes, once bright as morning dew

Now dimly shine like embers few.

A heart that beats but feels no more

A body worn like a machine's core

Used for pleasure, a vessel to claim

Her body a commodity without a name.

A nurse, A maid, A servant to all

Her duties are a never ending call

No thanks, no praise, just a tiring sigh

A life of misery, with no time to ask why.

She wants to speak, to break the mold,

To rise up and claim her story to be told.

But society's chains, they bind her tight,

A lower class citizen, with a lesser light.

Beaten and suppressed, her voice is unheard

A whisper in the wind, a face that's blurred

Her dignity, a luxury she can't afford

A soul caged in chains without a way to be restored.

Yet she dreams of a life untamed

A soul that's free with a heart, not ashamed

A life where she's more than a machine

A woman , a warrior wanting to be the Queen.

-Purbita Gupta. X

-Sketch by Tabassum Sheikh, XI