The Girl

The girl walks down the lane, everyday, every week.
The girl wishes the world to see, the beauty she is, her smile, her glee.
The girl looks at the sky that is blue, the rivers and streams, that flows right through, the center of her city.

The girl dresses up for them, sliding past slowly, making an impression.
The girl has hair, as dark as night, she wears them down, she wears with pride.
The girl has never seen a man, who looked at her once and never again, she likes being watched, she likes being awed, the girl enjoys being envied by all.

The girl walks down the lane again, today till night she stays as planned.
The girl feels the shadow come home, beside and behind, all over the floor.
The girl screams and shouts, but no one to hear the echoes in crowd.
The girl is touched, and felt and used, she looks up again, she looks at them.
The girl knows the fault is hers, no girls should live with pride and glee.
The girl turns and walks away, never to be seen again down the lanes.

The girl remembers, she knows the face, but no one to guide her way,
she cries instead, dwell in her pain, she comforts her ripped soul, cuts her hair away
The girl walks down the lane again, dressed up differently, with a knife in hand
The girl wishes the world to see, no beauty left, no smile, no glee.
The girl looks at the sky that is black, the rivers and streams, all dark and red.
The girl then sees the man again, she knows its time to pay the debt.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s