Me and my stream of thoughts

Taking me down the memory lane.

I was a child so loved

With people to belong to, People to love,

And people who loved back.

But, came this turn of life

With a deep infected wound.

A sound of help,

A yelp, a cry,

For people who loved me were snatched away,

And in came these strange men.

Hard hands touching me

Feeling the soft flesh that I was then.

Fingers sliding up and down.


No, I cried.

My cries were crushed.

Silent tears flowing down the cheeks,

Prayers in my mind.

Help me.

Help me.

But no one came.

The laughter in my ear.

The bad smell of cigarette

And the sweat with all the friction.

The weight upon my body.

As my will was crushed with me.

Eyes searing red; frenzy in those eyes.

Searing pain passed through me

As I felt the life leave me,

I was tossed aside.

They took their turns bashing me.

I was just another play toy.

A play toy that breathed.

Those breaths gave them the high.

My cries gave them the high.

The shadows that they came from

Engulfed them alive.

As I lay in blood

Shreds of me everywhere

Pieces of my humanity

Begging the pain to end.

The gashes to my innocence

The carves to my mind

The shame that I was inflected

Nothing has an end.

A question comes to my mind.

Why me?

Why me?

Whether Geeta, or Asifa

I was just a child.

I was just a child…

The screams that that penetrate our ears, has been made part of someone’s reality forcing her to live with the question forever… WHY HER? Help the people who can stop this. Be the people who can stop this. No religion, caste, community or race promotes this. Grow above those divisions and be what you were made… A HUMAN. Because no one, but we all can stop this. As always, it is humans against the demons.


Lipi Gupta

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