At 16 she was his passport
She cried a ocean of tears and still does.
At 16 she was his passport
At just sixteen,
her world was still in growth
soft dreams unbroken,
untouched by storm.
An Indian man
with promises bright,
spoke of love and futures
with him so bright .
A child in her womb,
the price she paid,
for words of devotion,
he carefully laid.
The passport office
gave him his papers,
his warmth grew cold,
he was never the same.
His words, once tender,
turned sharp, unkind;
he played with her heart
and fractured her mind.
Through nights of silence,
through months of ache,
she bore the weight
of each cruel mistake.
And when the papers came
making his life whole,
he brought over his wife,
From Bangladesh
baring her soul.
The girl stood broken,
her spirit worn,
a woman now,
from innocence torn.
Yet somewhere deep,
her strength remains,
in scars of sorrow,
in now years pain.
For though betrayal
has left its mark,
her life will rise,
One day from the dark.
Without him, she knows
her children would not be here,
and for them, she lives,
For the she took the pain
She loves them dear.
In their laughter and smiles,
she found her way,
her heart finds healing,
day by day.
He’s gone now to his maker
Still she morns 14 lost years
Lots of scares and punches
Abuse and too many tears
Now she is a woman
her children are grown
As long as she has them
she is never alone.
please note This is a true story of a mere child’s life taken to get a passport for a man who abused and used her. I know this lady. She is now 65 years old. Seems her life a ocean of real tears, hurt, and pain. Punches heal pain fades but the words of hate never go away. Used ruined and abused. I wish her luck but in my heart I do not think she will ever heal.
About the Creator
Marie381Uk
I've been writing poetry since the age of fourteen. With pen in hand, I wander through realms unseen. The pen holds power; ink reveals hidden thoughts. A poet may speak truth or weave a tale. You decide. Let pen and ink capture your mind❤️
Keep reading
More stories from Marie381Uk and writers in Poets and other communities.
The Devil's Cut
“Comrade, finally you’re awake.” The voice was smooth, sensual. A flickering incandescent bar was all that lit the white, sterile room. All Vladimir remembered was everything going black. He tried to move his arms and found them strapped to the gurney.
By Matthew J. Fromm7 days ago in Fiction
Comments (4)
Such vivid and powerful poetic expressions.
This is a hauntingly raw and deeply moving story. Her scars tell a story of survival, and your words honor her journey with grace and empathy. A truly powerful piece.
Poor woman, I hope she finds peace and strength.
This could be a tribute to her, but one that must be shared with only by her wishes for it could bring back all the pain there was. Good job.