I look myself in the mirror,
As I touch my face
Empty eyes,sunken cheeks and chapped lips,
The scratches on red skin
The burning sensation of the dead passion,
I thought, thought and thought
What I might have said to them?
To the uncle whose hand went under my skirt,
To the old man who groped me on bus,
To the brother who unzipped his pants
To the ex who forced himself on me,
I shake my head snapping out of my thoughts,
Too many what I might have.
You may think I might have screamed,
You may think I might have pleaded,
You may think I might have said No,
But if I can go back and say one thing to them, i will say
           "You are not the first, definitely you   won't be the last,
              My voice might seem lost, but  this won't last,
              And when I shred you apart, there will be nothing left to last
               For this past has left a mark to last,
              That won't go until I see you lost,with nothing to last. "