Pain Is Like Paint By Muskan Jain

I said pain is black,
But before it, it is several colours beginning from blushed pink to red and then it is bluish-green.
Sometimes it is dark purple.
Pain is like the rainbow, but of sorrow, tears and not of joyful rain.

I said pain has no shape,
It is rectangular, sometimes
Sometimes it resembles the cat-scratch on the wall.
Sometimes it is a shape that my mind don't even recognize.

Pain for me is more external,
So intense that my glass bangles breaks.
My skin doesn't seem even now,
And my hair, I have cut them short.
Short enough that his fist won't catch them.

Yesterday, one of my tooth was missing
I said pain is like a space,
A space that enters inside of you and widens itself.
A space where the smallest of the meteor take a leap of death.

Too much pain.
I said pain is like silence.
Just like the pressure cooker's whistle.
An extra sound will burn what is inside of that.
I stay silent, for I don't want more of the colours.
For I don't want more of the paint of pain.

I said all this,
For I am here, with no courage.
But my daughter, .
I want you to gather the strength and courage.
My fingers doesn't move without pain,
But my daughter,
I want you to shout and break the cycle of pain.
For I don't want your skin painted with pain.