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They call it a win
when a wealthy man pushing thirty
wants a pretty girl who's barely eighteen.
A girl still learning the shade of her own skin
still waking up from childhood dreams
But it doesn't matter,
what matters is
she looks good beside him.

They tell her she's lucky
Because he chose her
and he'll provide
Because she's young
and that's Currency
Because her skin is still tight
And eyes still shine
As if love is comfort
As if survival means being alive

No one asks
will he comfort her when she breaks down?
Will he understand her silence,
her overthinking, her fragile moods,
hold her the way she needs?

No one asks, if he drinks.
If he cheats
If he’s ever hurt a woman before
If he’s capable of love
or just trained to perform it
But he has a salary slip
So who cares right?

Because here marriage is not love
it’s legacy
It's dowry disguised as tradition
youth exchanged for stability
beauty sold to the man
with the most property

And when she says no
or even not yet
they say she’s too picky
Too stubborn, an ungrateful b!tch
Because how dare a girl
want more than a husband who pays the bills?

They tell her love is fiction
real life is compromise
Happiness is stability
even if your heart rots as a price

So, many girls get married
while grieving quietly
They walk down aisles
everyone claps
But no one notices
the funeral happening inside her

And when it fails
they ask why
Why don’t they love each other?
Why is she depressed?
Why does she feel empty
even in diamonds and expensive dress?

Because nobody taught the man
how to love
They taught him how to provide
How to choose a young, obedient girl
How to demand purity
despite all the women he left behind
drunk nights and broken promises
And he wants a good girl
Who was taught to wait
to look pretty, to be chosen
But has he ever been a good man? 

But they marry 
She cooks, cleans
Bleeds every month in silence 
Pretending this is happiness

And the tragedy repeats
Beauty marries wealth
Again, and again
Like a script that has been written
With permanent ink

Untill, one girl says no.

Not because she isn’t scared
But because she’s tired of being sold
Because she wants to grow old
with someone who sees her
when her skin no longer has the glow
when she’s messy
when she’s crying at 2 am
for no reason at all
She wants someone who chooses her
not for her age, or beauty
but for the fire in her soul

And they’ll say she’s foolish
That she’ll end up alone
But maybe alone
is better than being half-loved
and being sold.
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