By Yasmin Parveen
Girl in Pieces
A life fragmented,
No technology can cure her agony.
Electric shocks,
Current-filled therapy,
Ripped through her,
Half her strength it took.
She wailed, whimpered—
Not from madness,
But from a pain that broke her very being.
Like a spirit unraveling.
Hope feels like a distant star,
Too far, too cold,
A light she can never reach.
The doctors, equipped with machines,
Can only trace the shape of her suffering,
Not its root.
They expand their knowledge,
Yet still find nothing—
Only silence in her cells.
She has become an enigma,
A riddle even science cannot solve.
She wonders,
What is the purpose of all this technology,
Of this era of progress,
If it cannot tame the storm within her?
Her pain is a tempest—
Stabbing,
Pinching,
Piercing—
Unyielding,
Until it consumes everything she was.
She wanted normal.
She wanted peace.
But all she got was pieces.
Scattered fragments of the person she once was—
A puzzle with no solution.
It’s not frustration—
It’s the condition of being broken,
Of becoming what the world made her,
A result of the unbearable weight of existence.
Do not judge this girl,
For her pain is not hers alone—
It is the essence of suffering,
The echo of every broken thing in the universe.
She is a reflection of the brokenness in all of us.
If you dare judge,
You might as well hold that bullet to her chest,
For she is what she has become—
But she does not surrender.
Whenever she falls into the abyss,
She laughs at its grasp,
A defiant reminder that even in darkness,
There is still light.
Technology failed her,
But in that failure,
She found a strange truth:
She must embrace the rain,
Not just endure the pain,
But let it wash over her,
Until she becomes one with it.
For everything else,
Every cure, every hope,
Seems a vain illusion.
It’s a shame—
Such a deep, aching shame.
Her dreams turned to ash,
The lab tests came back negative—
The doctors left puzzled,
Staring into the void of her suffering.
Her life, once vibrant,
Now slips through her fingers,
A fleeting breath caught in the wind.
Should she wait for Her—
The inevitable embrace of death?
Or should she drown in the abyss,
Where every breath feels like a battle,
Where the air is heavy,
Choking the life out of her?
Should she surrender to the silence?
She wanted to love,
To be loved.
But no one can possibly want
A shattered, battered soul like hers.
She is too broken to be whole,
Yet too whole to be abandoned.
An enigma no technology can solve.
She exists between the spaces,
Where night and day hold no meaning,
Where time slips through her fingers,
Like water in the hands of a fading dream.
This is the story of the broken soul—
The girl in pieces.
Not lost,
But waiting for the pieces to fall into place.
By Yasmin Parveen
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