Words and Voices: The Unburnt

Words and Voices: The Unburnt

As far as my memory goes
it was a normal day
of the normal life
of this very normal girl.
Walking down the street
for an event slightly ‘more than normal’
It was my job interview.
After years and years and years of academia,
I was finally going to be something.
If not the bread-earner of the family
then probably the butter or the jam earner.
With all the answers ready on the tip of my tongue,
there was a funny anticipation in my stomach.
Until…
A splash of liquid rushed on my face
blocking my vision,
bruising my skin,
I was an acid-attack victim.

For days and days on the hospital bed, I lie
soaking it all in my heart,
but the burning sensation won’t go
When all of my loved ones won’t look at my face.
How do I tell them,
I’m not the person they think I am
but the person who did this to my face is.
How do I tell them,
It’s just my face that’s ruined, not my heart
that still beats for them;
that still loves them.

More than anybody else
I started hating myself.
Looking at my old photographs,
Oh, that perfectly carved face;
Oh, those beautiful eyes;
Oh, that smile;
that smile the acid dissolved with itself.

They say it’s alright, they say it’s fine.
So what if I was surrounded by eyes staring me at places?
It’s I who should’ve given up the idea of taking care of myself.
So what if I was lying in the middle of the road;
blinded by the excruciating pain of burns?
So what if people were walking by my cold, scarred body,
and changing directions as they reach near?
Afterall, it’s I who should’ve forever locked myself amidst 4 walls.
They say it’s alright.
They say it’s alright.
They say it’s alright.
That’s what they always say.
But now, I ask,
Is it really alright?

I cover my mouth to muff my own wails and screams.
I don’t want them to know
that it still hurts me in the heart
as much as it did
when the acid seeped underneath my skin.

Amidst this fatal chaos of my life,
there’s just one thing that keeps me going.
The voice in my head.
The voice that keeps me alive.
The voice that tells me that I’ve fallen
just so that I could pick myself up.
The voice that grabs me by my collar
and pulls me towards my long-lost dream.
The voice that his acid couldn’t destroy.
The voice that’s nobody else’s,
But MINE.


To read more poems like The Unburnt click here.