In the shadows of her childhood's dawn,
Ananya walked with silent scars drawn.
Her father's voice, a thunderous roar,
Left her trembling on the cold, hard floor.

Her uncle's hands, with cruel intent,
Broke her spirit, left her bent.
Yet within her, a fire burned bright,
A flicker of hope, a stubborn light.

One night, she fled from the pain and the fear,
The echoes of torment still ringing clear.
Into the night, she ran to be free,
Chasing a dream of what life could be.

She found a man with gentle eyes,
A love that seemed to heal the lies.
But love, too, turned into a snare,
As he left her broken, laid bare.

Used in a game she didn’t know,
Another chapter in her tale of woe.
Yet the world underestimated her might,
For in her heart, she held the fight.

Against the odds, she stood tall,
No longer a victim to anyone’s call.
She faced the world with a fearless gaze,
Turning her pain into a blaze.

Ananya, the warrior, strong and bold,
Her story of courage is forever told.
For in her soul, she found her voice,
And in the battle, made her choice.

To fight the ill, to stand her ground,
In every silence, her strength was found.
Ananya's song, A Tale of Fire,
A woman forged from endless trials,
Yet risen higher.

.    .    .