Details |
Muskaan Singh Poem
"It was your dress," they replied
Was it? The ripped fabric cried
The 5-year-old's laughter silenced that day
Couldn't even scream, "I'm just a child," and ran away
"It was your shorts," they claimed
Was it? The torn seams proclaimed
The 10-year-old's dreams shattered, flamed
Couldn't even cry, "I'm just a girl," with shame
"It was your clothes," they blamed
Was it? The cloth asked, ashamed
The 15-year-old's future stolen free,
Asks herself, "Why me?"
"It was your skirt," they accused
Was it? The hem, now frayed, refused
The little girl life was shattered with ease
Couldn't even shout , "No! Please"
A newborn, innocent and pure,
Raped by a monster, without a cure.
An old lady, frail and weak,
Raped by a coward, with no humanity to seek.
Can we still blame clothes?
Can we have any hopes?
Can we still shift the blame from his evil deeds
To the victim's innocent needs?
Blamed for wearing a summer dress, "too short".
Blamed for wearing a top, "too flattering."
Blamed for wearing clothes deemed "provoking."
When will we learn?
When will we see?
It's not her dress, jeans, or skirt.
It's the rapist's crime, not her fault to assert.
Break the silence, end the shame
Support survivors, shift the blame
Teach consent, respect, boundaries too
Let girls and women rise, their voices break through
Let the voices of the silenced, roar louder than ever
And justice will be served , forever.
Copyright © Muskaan Singh | Year Posted 2025
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Details |
Muskaan Singh Poem
In the unspoken stanzas of glance,
A language of love is skillfully enhanced.
Flushed cheeks , shy eyes ,
Glimmering like starry night skies.
The melody of footsteps, a syncronized pace,
A duet of devotion in every gaze.
Fingers touch, cheeks glow red,
Whispered secrets in the heart's closest thread.
The eyes deep dialect, a secret code,
Conveys the heart's deepest abode.
The soft curves of a comforting embrace,
A harbor of solace, calm and safe.
In the gentle tilt of head , a sweet surprise,
In the curve of neck , an invitation lies.
Eyes unite, love's passion burns bright,
Smile glows warm, heart feels just right.
With eyes that lock and hearts that beat,
Our actions whisper secrets sweet.
In every gesture, love is key,
A language universal, for you and me.
~Muskaan
Copyright © Muskaan Singh | Year Posted 2025
|
Details |
Muskaan Singh Poem
"It was your dress," they replied
Was it? The ripped fabric cried
The 5-year-old's laughter silenced that day
Couldn't even scream, "I'm just a child," and ran away
"It was your shorts," they claimed
Was it? The torn seams proclaimed
The 10-year-old's dreams shattered, flamed
Couldn't even cry, "I'm just a girl," with shame
"It was your clothes," they blamed
Was it? The cloth asked, ashamed
The 15-year-old's future stolen free,
Asks herself, "Why me?"
"It was your skirt," they accused
Was it? The hem, now frayed, refused
The little girl life was shattered with ease
Couldn't even shout , "No! Please"
A newborn, innocent and pure,
Raped by a monster, without a cure.
An old lady, frail and weak,
Raped by a coward, with no humanity to seek.
Can we still blame clothes?
Can we have any hopes?
Can we still shift the blame from his evil deeds
To the victim's innocent needs?
Blamed for wearing a summer dress, "too short".
Blamed for wearing a top, "too flattering."
Blamed for wearing clothes deemed "provoking."
When will we learn?
When will we see?
It's not her dress, jeans, or skirt.
It's the rapist's crime, not her fault to assert.
Break the silence, end the shame
Support survivors, shift the blame
Teach consent, respect, boundaries too
Let girls and women rise, their voices break through
Let the voices of the silenced, roar louder than ever
And justice will be served , forever.
Copyright © Muskaan Singh | Year Posted 2025
|