THE UNSEEN WOUND

Sanjay Bhatt 

In the depths of wounds, stories untold,
A collages of pain, in hearts unfold.
The hungry fox, in tiger guise, does roam,
Within our homes, secrets find their home.

Like red apples, with charming allure,
Yet within beats a heart, wounded and pure.
A dynamite of wounds, aching to explode,
Threatening to engulf all, on its treacherous road.

Father and daughter, in holy bond intertwined,
Now shattered, betrayed, by truths unkind.
The faithful bed, once a sanctuary, now a snake,
Inflicting wounds deep, with each cruel intake.

I cried to my mother, with wounds laid bare,
But instead of solace, she silenced my despair.
"S...S...S...," she hushed, in fearful plea,
"Do not reveal our wounds, keep them hidden, unseen."

Oh, my golden daughter, bearer of our plight,
Cast out the pain, lest it tarnish our light.
But let us not despise our wounds, but wear them as art,
For in their stories, lies the beating heart.

And when the day comes, to face our sins,
Remember, love's path is strewn with whims.
Yet amidst the turmoil, let honor stand tall,
For it's in our resilience, we cover our house's call.