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Fighting my way through the black and white mazes, only to be pushed back- again and again, into that endless path to nowhere.
It was like a dark gloomy cloud Spreading itself all over the sky, The mood of elders, Rubbing off on the young ones too, Kids making themselves inconspicuous – To go with the elders actions, Not wanting to cause any trouble
And see black.
Terrified at the sight, the black of his belt, Bringing out the red from my skin, Pushing me into an endless swirling black tunnel, Fighting my way through the black and white mazes Only to be pushed back- Again and again, Into that endless path to nowhere.
The air was thick and dark, like a pall of gloom When someone passes away, The black mood of his bearing, Testimony to the visible black and blue marks left on my body, The black of his eyes minus the irises, Indication of an upcoming storm.
I couldn’t differentiate- Between sunny, rainy and hot days, All I saw were the same overcast shadowy black days, Becoming numb and growing a thick skin, Devoid of any feelings or pain, Walking around in a haze going about my work like a robot, Wondering if I deserved this
The outcome of spending day and night, With him under the same roof, For the longest time of my life, This period of black days- Caused by a small virus, Brought out the violent devil in him.
DOMESTIC VIOLENCE was the name given to it, many men, many women, but the victim always a woman, Will the tables ever turn?
Image source: Pexels
Kavitha is based in Hyderabad, India, a Civil Engineer with a Masters in Environmental Science by profession. Love for writing made her take up writing for the past fifteen years. She has published her first read more...
This post has published with none or minimal editorial intervention. Women's Web is an open platform that publishes a diversity of views, individual posts do not necessarily represent the platform's views and opinions at all times.
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