Her Doleful Chronicle
Heralded by the dawn, days after days,
To the infinite vista, vigilant she stays.
Yet dormant, her desires, in a dainty closet
Shielded and treasured as priceless asset.
Painted dreams of a colossal fairytale,
Had to be hidden safe, in her fragile shell.
Eerie jingles of a coloured cacophony,
Disarrayed in them, a mixed symphony.
Many a subtle rhythm, embodied with tears
Piercing pains and formidable fears.
Broken strings of a bleeding heart
Scars and screams, a battle’s aftermath.
Yet veiled and draped all in beauty,
Mask of forced smile, her identity.
Pangs of rebel, stories of mutiny
Accepted has she, her cruel destiny.
Dare not she own a friend, dare not a foe
Not love, nor hatred, can she further bestow!
Her Moist pale palms, fail to ink
And dreaded eyes, rarely blink.
Rhymeless poems, faded sight.
For an ounce of peace is the sole fight.
Perhaps, a silent hunt for amorphous bliss
A plea, into the horizon, there, she recedes!