Is This It?

As I struggle to avert the thoughts, the thoughts unable to put me to sleep,

Of the men on the street watching me with that hungry look in their eyes,

I wonder, is this my life? A life of fear enveloping me, slowly, in a hug I cannot break out from?

A life that I have no control over, a life constantly spinning a web of lies?

I dream of days, days where the judgement fails to follow me behind,

Of the whispers of my dress failing to cover my fresh scars,

Scars that those very whispers managed to pierce into my skin,

The skin society once stated, ‘it is a prized possession of ours.’

All I wonder is, over nothing but an outfit, an outfit I excitedly picked as my choice,

I fear when the plumber comes in my room,

I endure the silent torture I go through everyday of “ruining my future”,

I want to cry my lungs out, but to whom?

By Tarini Dayal