The anguish of an escaped woman from captivity

Under the darkness of gleaming lights of the city
So many wounds have been inflicted on me
That no amount of ointment
Could heals them now .......

Now  I am capable of  healing  others' wounds
But  how  do I  heal the scars inflicted upon my soul
I was neither living nor dead but I sobbed every moment
In your captivity I was like  a dead body who breathes  

Alas!  You even realize sometimes
How many wounds you inflicted upon me

Which are still unhealed and ripened

I  hate myself, when  I scrub my body
Not able to scrub  out those scars
You had  not only  inflicted wounds on my flesh
But my soul has also been cut into pieces

Alas, a tiny percentage of that pain is inflicted upon you,
The sorrows which  made me cry in silence in your  hell

Vinod Passy “Hanskamal”