Friday, January 13, 2006


She felt a seering pain,
rushing through her bosom.
And who would have thought,
That her life was but wholesome?

She envelopes herself in,
Her world of shadows.
Wishes and ambitions crying out,
For her like ancient widows.

She wants to tell the world,
Of her pain, scream and shout.
But will anyone listen,
Without a gram of doubt?

She resigns herselfto her fate,
Her story left untold.
Still, crouching, mingling with darkness,
Letting herself, unfold.

She is the divine creation,
Enveloped in her misery.
Oh! what a paradoxical irony,
The creator of man-child, killed...
because she is a SHE....

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