It's said that,
'Time heals scars',
But some reveal the crude thoughts of peoples mentality,

One such saga was draped as her attire,
Once a girl of dreams and ambitions just like caterpillars weaved a thought of spreading her wings and reaching for the vast blue skies,

But as a decade of life rolled came trauma on hold,
Who knew her existence would be lost, in a
Dramatic world to her cost,

A catastrophe of crisis burnt the ashes her pride to reflectors,
No more a heartfelt visionary but a harsh felt agony,

As people close her chose her as a chunk of sympathy, some giving compassion and other words that magnitude of void surrogacy,

Time and tides wait for none, days rolled by grew a girl to the woman as nature dwells to see, but the attitude of people chose her some with captions as,
U G L Y and rejecting her,

One day, as hopeless the feel she stood in front of her reflection with a smirk of delicacy,

What do you expect?
Where am I to be blamed?
Is this the life chosen by destiny for me?
Why should I be a blanket of sympathy?

As the turmoil of emotions compelled her to seek answers on the fading identity,

Soon she derived am not a doormat of time shields,
Rise from sand dunes and will provoke the life which I wanna be,

And there she was putting up with her emotions and chose fine art of paintings to glide her through that closed window panes,

Now she felt no self-pity nor expected words of symbolic frames, as her pictured revealed the beauty for its not bedridden just chokers of face,

She slowly found existence what had lost in life long alleys,

There stood a woman of substance,
Today she holds her art contours,
Dignifying her potential magnitude,
Fame and name spoke her glory,
Nothing is impossible when the word itself implementing,
"I'm possible"
"Every scar hides a story."
© Soni Mirchandani