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.