Shabanji

In the quiet of twilight, Shabanji stands,

A lady with stories, etched in scars' strands.

Upon her skin, tales of trials unfold,

Each mark, a reminder of stories untold.

Bearing witness to battles, both fierce and long,

Scars whisper softly, a courageous song.

They map out the journey, the pain she endured,

Yet in each line, resilience assured.

In the mirror's reflection, she gazes deep,

Tracing the scars, where memories sleep.

They speak of heartaches, of trials faced,

But also of triumph, in strength encased.

Shabanji learns that scars are not just pain,

They're echoes of sunshine after the rain.

A mosaic of healing, etched on her skin,

A testament to the battles she's within.

So, she wears her scars, a tapestry bold,

A story of resilience, beautifully told.

For in every mark, a lesson resides,

That suffering's echoes eventually subside.