Sonal Singh On Sonal's Table
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Even in her black and white world, she sought color;
a feeble attempt to camouflage her ashen pallor.
Anything to hide the scars of the skin that had been burned.
To watch that, to stare at her, random people turned.
The lover she spurned had crushed her dreams.
The acid had burnt, the night had resonated with her screams.
The fiery brew had burnt, scarred a path deep;
the hurt had healed but the lingering pain still made her weep.
Gone was the woman who had greeted her in the mirror,
replaced by this cruel visage, that made onlookers shiver.
Gone into the inky blackness was her precious sight;
her life was colorless now, devoid of any white light.
Oh! how her love for shades, tints and hues had filled her life.
But alas! that was all gone now, replaced by an unending strife.
The only colors she knew now were the black of her sight
and she could not see but knew the cane she tapped was white.
Image – google images
