She is a miniature, the kind that need not be saved.
Like the comma after every word, that has something more to say.
She is a vision that could blind you with truths.
Like the semicolon after every word, that has something different to say.
She is a voice that is loud, clear yet subtle.
Like the exclamation after every word, that has something strong to say.
She is a touch, the kind that cannot be forgotten.
Like the full stop after every word, that has something important to say.

And yet, you drip yourself in the whisks of this flattery world and forget her worth.
Like as if her exclamations aren’t good enough, her full stops not guaranteed, the semicolons not worthy and her commas have nothing more to say.

You then retrograde her into a colon and claim she’s not logically complete.
You tear her apart and exclaim in your inverted commas ” A girl can’t be competent enough.”
You draw her in with a hyphen to put her close enough, yet, separate at a far far away distance.
You cut down her words and actions like the never-ending pauses.
You bury her into an ellipsis by stopping her even when she has more to say.
You leave her with a question mark of “What being a man feels like”
You push her into the ditch of never-ending full stops and then she’s nowhere to go.
You make her trip over your Apostrophes where His’ is always greater than Hers’
and Hers’ always less mighty than His’.
You forcefully drift her apart of the dreams she could possibly reach.
And yet, shout out from the top of your lungs that “Her punctuations just aren’t enough!”

– Darshana Chand

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Syringe Attack Fighting Patriarchy: One day at a time

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