Buried Alive in Silence

Written By Elsa K. Varghese 

Edited and GD By N. Roshini Reddy

Hands pinned down, his mouth sealed tight,

A body trembling, robbed of fight.

Shadows crawl where his spirit bled,

A soul undone, a mind left dead.

They broke him open, piece by piece,

Yet called his torment a whispered myth.

His body scattered, voice denied,

Truth erased, the wound disguised.

“Men can't be victim,” they scoff, they sneer,

Drowning his screams so none can hear.

The violence burns, the silence kills,

A coffin built of society’s will.

But his pain is not a phantom cry,

It bleeds, it scars, it will not die.

How long will you turn your face away?

His broken body demands its place.

Rise for the voices caged in night,

For every soul stripped of its right.

His scream is protest, sharp, unbowed,

No silence now. We’ll make it loud.

They call him strong, as if that word

Could stitch the wounds no one has heard.

They crown him man, and with that brand

Erase the tremor in his hand.

But strength can falter, walls can break,

A body bends, a soul can ache.

He bleeds like anyone, scar for scar,

Yet they deny who the victims are.

They twist his pain with cruel disguise,

Rename his tears as silent pride.

They call it weakness, they call it shame,

And bury him beneath that name.

But he is both, the steel, the bruise,

The will to fight, the right to lose.

His truth is more than what they see:

Strong and weak, he is still free.

So break the chains of what they claim,

No silence left, no stolen name.

His story rises, raw, unbowed,

A whispered grief, now thunder loud.