Here I am.
Scarred, beaten, and dead.
I can finally leave your prison.
But this is not how I came here.
I came here laden with all you demanded.
Delivered prior to the palanquin that bore me.

There you were.
With greedy eyes examining all the wares.
You made sure nothing was missing.
Only then I was allowed to enter “my new home”.
I was then marched to the bedroom.
Where you lay with your hungry eyes.

Here I am.
Years of sweeping and mopping dirty floors.
Washing clothes for your entire family.
Making sure I cook for all before I leave for work.
Handing you my paycheck on the first of each month.
Serving your bed each night.

There she was.
Your sweet little first born.
But she could never become your heir.
So she had no chance or right to live.
I had to witness her murder with silence.
And see you repeat this horror to your daughters—year after year.

Here I am.
Being punished for the birth of multiple nuisances.
And my father’s inability to meet your insatiable needs.
For this you brutally beat me with the belt I got you for your birthday.
But at night you still want to plant your seed in me.
Hoping my cursed womb will give you a boy this time.

There he is.
My father is carrying me again.
Just like he carried me from the hospital when I was born.
This time, he is crying embracing my lifeless body.
Last time he cried was on my wedding day.
Those tears were different.

Here I am.
Laying in excruciating pain.
My wounded womb can’t even produce a daughter now.
And my father can’t borrow anymore to bring you gifts.
So I have no choice but to turn myself into ashes.
And join the plight of thousand other sisters.