A rainy day

 The little girl is sitting in the dark corner of her room with her arms wrapped around her knees. With the breakage of tears from her eyes, she sniffs quietly.  with each of her breaths, pain swirls, and irritates the aura of melancholy, the emptiness of her room howls the silence but it is all no more than hunking to deaf ears to her. She finds her self weightless. her figure has been crumpled into an unsubstantial hollow piece of meat. she wants to fly but there is no sky. she wants to laugh but there is no reason. she wants to live but there is no way. she wants to get rid of the hold of all those controversies that are roaming wildly in her brain. her mind is ceaselessly getting fierce with its thoughts. some going in. some going out she does not know, what to keep, what to know, what to let go. she wants to break the cycle that repeats itself in every life, every personality and every individual

"work to succeed not to exceed the

 limits of the cycle that the society has made."

 she wants to break the bars of the limitedness of her view but she fails. she finds herself numb.

she is afraid of the customs. the views that society makes out of its judgment are exasperating her soul.

 their opinions tore her apart, comments more than compliments, opinions, judgments, obstructions more than promotions, and criticism more than appreciations are making her senseless.layer by layer she leaps the masks of all the restrictions on her view, and her dreams. she lets her self lie in the lap of all the controversies and hide the spark of her personality. the spark that was made to be burnt into a fire is now turning into the darkness of her mind. she is bewildered at the hostage of convenience(by the decision of the path that society has made to follow) she was never frail. she clenches her arm but her palm never reaches her skin. she finds out that the pain is all because the destination has not been achieved yet  

she tries to bridle her thoughts in her ignorance but now they are out of her reach. 

she starts wiping the layers off her face one by one. she swabs her tears by her arms and stands up.

she walks to the mirror in front of her bed and stands looking at her self.

A grim cover her face. she touches her reflection trying to figure out if it was her.

the tips of her fingers feel the occupying fears in their touch. 

her eyes are still brave to stay wide open to let tears flow. 

she is ready to die every day and cry every night but she is not ready to let numbness conquer her mind. she is not ready to be blind.........