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  • Writer's picturegauri nadkarni choudhary

My Fault?

I always thought black looked good

I just never mixed it with blue.

It stood stark against my skin,

A reminder that I had failed you.

They said it was my fault,

That I let you do this to me.

My fault that I ignored,

What the world could openly see.

It was my fault that I believed in our sacred vows,

My fault that I thought you were my knight.

My fault that I trusted,

That I did not put up a fight.

I was a woman of today,

My fault I let a man get better of me.

What good was all my education,

If I let you hurt me.

My fault that I reached out,

That I believed the world would hear my side.

Instead I became a hypocrite,

They believed I had lied.

How could a strong woman become weak,

Vulnerable in body and mind.

I had an income which was stable,

I was the independent kind.

They saw the bruise not the broken heart,

They saw it as my failure, not your offense.

They saw it as my fault,

Not their response in seeing fault in the woman in every sense.

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