Beauty And Wealth

They call it a win when a wealthy man pushing thirty wants a pretty girl who's barely eighteen. A girl still learning the shade of her own skin still waking up from childhood dreams But it doesn't matter, what matters is she looks good beside him. They tell her she's lucky Because he chose her and he'll provide Because she's young and that's Currency Because her skin is still tight And eyes still shine As if love is comfort As if survival means being alive No one asks will he comfort her when she breaks down? Will he understand her silence, her overthinking, her fragile moods, hold her the way she needs? No one asks, if he drinks. If he cheats If he’s ever hurt a woman before If he’s capable of love or just trained to perform it But he has a salary slip So who cares right? Because here marriage is not love it’s legacy It's dowry disguised as tradition youth exchanged for stability beauty sold to the man with the most property And when she says no or even not yet they say she’s too picky Too stubborn, an ungrateful b!tch Because how dare a girl want more than a husband who pays the bills? They tell her love is fiction real life is compromise Happiness is stability even if your heart rots as a price So, many girls get married while grieving quietly They walk down aisles everyone claps But no one notices the funeral happening inside her And when it fails they ask why Why don’t they love each other? Why is she depressed? Why does she feel empty even in diamonds and expensive dress? Because nobody taught the man how to love They taught him how to provide How to choose a young, obedient girl How to demand purity despite all the women he left behind drunk nights and broken promises And he wants a good girl Who was taught to wait to look pretty, to be chosen But has he ever been a good man? But they marry She cooks, cleans Bleeds every month in silence Pretending this is happiness And the tragedy repeats Beauty marries wealth Again, and again Like a script that has been written With permanent ink Untill, one girl says no. Not because she isn’t scared But because she’s tired of being sold Because she wants to grow old with someone who sees her when her skin no longer has the glow when she’s messy when she’s crying at 2 am for no reason at all She wants someone who chooses her not for her age, or beauty but for the fire in her soul And they’ll say she’s foolish That she’ll end up alone But maybe alone is better than being half-loved and being sold.