Shreya Ghosh

She was almost drenched in her crimson tide.
Although, apparently able to convince herself,
the trauma she underwent to save her dignity.
Still she held her hopes high,
squeezed by the hands of negativity.

Hardly in her 16, had hair curled up to her shoulders,
that almost covered the face.
Voiceless since birth,
through the systole and diastole,
she could barely handle the leftovers on her shape.

On the frontier of adulthood
a perplexion of emotions and secretion of hormones,
added an impulse to her anxiety.
Trying to hide from the societal eyes,
She was begging pardon to the almighty.

Afterall, the 1st century of the 3rd millennium,
was all set for her holy cremation.
The sacrifice she bestowed upon mankind
Will she get a place amongst the homo sapiens?

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