• a_highfunctioning_sociopath 11w

    Paper Flowers

    Life isn't a fairy tale
    But she dreamt it to be.
    With her heels nailed to the ground
    She let her emotions free.

    "I wish I were a bird" she said
    And would she escape to her city of dreams
    Unaware was she about the virtual lie,
    Believed urban life was beautiful as it seems:

    With handmade paper flowers dripped in sweat
    She boarded the earliest train,
    Hoping the little money she made
    Would suffice her with the next morning trip.

    Draping a saree ,she hid her scars
    Of shattered dreams and lost wars!
    Gathering the beauty of those paper flowers
    She started again for the long six hours.

    Sitting by the window
    Tranquility led her path of dreams
    The wind caressing her matted hair,
    The rusty compartment startled with screams!

    Over her tender bossom she felt,
    Rough debauched grasp,
    Struggling with her feeble wrists
    Her petrified soul collapsed.

    No less than an animal he pounced,
    Whilst animals when hungry they prey!
    Staining those white flowers Red,
    Her tattered relics as leftovers they lay!

    Whilst some as articles we read
    Many of such go unnoticed.
    With millions marching with candles in hand
    Let's light the flame of Justice!

    _AshmitaRoy










    ©a_highfunctioning_sociopath