She wakes every morning,

to the scorn of the world,

as it pierces through her,

an island in a bigger island,

the claws stare at her ready to clip on her skin,

buried in depths of misery,

she is about to suffocate in,

they  threw a sword to her heart,

now it is in clutches,

limping its way through empty roads full of people,

her tears flow down with vigour,

dance through the skin with power,

with every tear,the fire in her subsides,

she is a star to the world a sand to the home,

they say prophets have no,

her career marks a decade,so does her ‘decay’

she  rusts in lust trying to get to happiness,what was her flaw?

when her fairy-tales came real,

but turned her to a taboo tale,

when will she be set free from the shackles of non-revolution era!

we are cast upon our past,

it turns to a cursed bid,

she faces freedom like its down on earth,

gone with the wind, with the blood shed for it,

shame on we,

for being victims of our own chains!





1 Comment

  1. Write more, thats all I have to say. Literally, it seems as though you relied on the video to make your point.
    You obviously know what youre talking about, why throw
    away your intelligence on just posting videos to your blog when you
    could be giving us something enlightening to read?

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