Woman

Woman

He was trouble, the devil’s playground in himself. She was a gentle silver ray of hope, happiness, and kindness, all wrapped into one. 

His sins were the poison she exchanged with antidotes relentlessly.

His harshness she accepted, disguising it as care. 

When her ray began to rust, reducing from silver to a mere copper, she had enough. 

Eliminating the falsely embellished silhouette she had made of him in her beautiful mind that did not accept his toxicity, she rose.

High above her niceness, high above her sacrifices. She rose, to become strong. She rose, an independent woman. She rose, a woman who knew what she deserved.

 

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Yashvi Prakash
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