A Trembling WeaponA Poem by Shweta RathodDark was the room,dark was her vision she had cried every night ,they were the reason. Eyes were pouring and lips were twisting Few were the seconds she was remembering. The night was a curse,the memories were nightmares, dreams were shattered with the flowing tears. Few were cursing , Few were comforting But nothing carried away the pain she was holding. There were monsters around her,roaring with lust She was a cub and they blew her away like dust. Those hands that held her were like thorns And the eyes that glared were filled with venom, Grief made a way to her heart , Fear surrounded her life's cart. Nothing could be rearranged and it wasn't her fault, They blamed her for everything and her life was at halt. "her life was once a happy song, Why was she suffering when they were the wrong?" The thought gave her the courage to fight the demon wiping the tears
she raised her weapon. She screamed at once and let it all out, the weapon was her voice without any doubt. "Cruel is the world, Cruel are you, I am an innocent punished by you. Ashamed should be you not my virgin soul, Punish them who made your thoughts foul" now was the time when she didn't cared. she said as they stared, No more curse was the night, Respect is her right.
© 2018 Shweta Rathod |
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Added on January 17, 2017 Last Updated on January 10, 2018 Tags: hurt, pain, women society, fear, women empowerment |