Her life is a dark dungeon of sorrow
Camouflaged as complacent bliss and tranquility
The hands that held hers to pledge lifelong love
Fidelity, companionship and warmth
The one society made her protector
Became the bane of her existence, her life
With tears of grief soaked
On the ebon pillow of  mute nights
In the light of the day she hid behind veneers of smiles
A little too bright from the reflection of hidden tears
Beneath the silken gowns and ornate diamonds
She hides the smudges of abuse
While the scars of endurance are hidden
Under the layers of rouge and foundation
Shreiksof the tortured souls are muffled
By the fingers of shame and horror
Tainted skin and conscience abused again and again
Have scores of muted plights to share
And if it found the liberty of vocal expression
Then poignant words would flow
To melt the heart of even unfeeling igneous rocks
And having listened in silence to
This story of abuse and poignance
With moist eyes I would only say
That abuse was the child of silence
And protesting was the key to dignity…