Once upon a time, my safe place used to be called home.
Invulnerable from the outside danger.
Home was my sanctuary.
But now home is more malignant than the outermost.
Now home is where I am not free.
Where I am voiceless: mute.
Afraid to speak, to be me.
Where I suffer from blows and insults daily.
Where my heart, my body and my soul are full of pain: bleeding.
Where my rights as a woman are not recognised.
Shut down by tradition, norms and culture.
Where I suppress my feelings.
Where I am treated like an invalid.
Where I have no dignity.
I am like a person incarcerated.
Liberation doesn’t exist,
Only imprisonment.
Home is no longer home.
It has ceased to exist.
Home now resembles bondage.
Now my home is my prison.