Buried Alive Twice: The Silent Funeral of a Girl’s Dreams
They never dug the earth this time,
Yet still, she lies beneath the dust —
Of silence, shame, and shattered dreams,
Of love that broke and lost its trust.
No blood was spilled, no screams were heard,
Just quiet tears on pillow’s crust —
A life unlived, a soul unheard,
A girl made ashes long before dust.
In the days of ignorance — the so-called Zamana-e-Jahiliyat — daughters were buried alive at birth. Today, they are still being buried. Not under soil, but under the weight of expectations, abuse, silence, and a life that never truly belongs to them.
From the moment a girl opens her eyes, she is told what to wear, how to behave, and whom to obey. First, it's her father and brothers — guardians of honor, dictators of destiny. Then comes marriage, where her life becomes a rulebook written by her husband. Her dreams? Her desires? Lost in translation.
She doesn’t own her childhood, nor her youth. And when her husband is "tired" or "done" — divorce becomes the exit door. What happens next? She carries the weight of children, judgmental eyes, and a broken identity. The world never lets her live, but somehow never lets her die either.
Is this freedom?
Is this the fairytale we narrate when we call her a princess?
Instead of feeding her fantasies of prince charming, why don’t we teach her to be the queen of her own kingdom? Why don’t we raise girls who can stand tall, speak loud, and live proud — with or without a man?
Let’s build daughters who are not a burden after divorce, but a force before it.
Let us raise girls who are taught:
“You can survive storms. You can be the fire. You can live for yourself — and still be whole.”
Stop romanticizing silence. Stop glorifying sacrifice. Start normalizing strength.
💬 Your Voice Matters — Comment Below
Do you think society is finally ready to let girls live for themselves?
Or are we still decorating their cages with golden lies?
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