Fathima Shihabudeen

February 22, 2004 - Thrissur
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Your hand is made of steel
And you slap me with it
Pain is all you make me feel

You push me to the wall
My ears ring
I’m not your loathed doll

Whenever you’re angry
You spit on me
For some peace I’m hungry

You break my bones
You give me hell
You pay no heed to my groans

You make me wail
You make me despise myself
For still living in this jail

I don’t know what I’ll do
I don’t know where I’ll go
Holding on, I rue

But one day you’ll see
I’ll be my own master
I’ll be smiling in glee
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