Her Story

To be contained or content
Either way she’d be silent
Beyond life she’d find she was sure
Beauty galore

A small smile spelled more disaster
Than one wide and toothy, so much more like her
Shying away from conversation
Now that she’d given up all pretension

She could speak she supposed
But what was the satisfaction in being opposed
She was one they were many
Terrible beasts they were all, slaves of tyranny

Born as a burden
Lived sullen
Moved towards a starry sky
Only to find an empty night, sigh

Why her? She asks
Why the only one who doesn’t own masks
Never intruding, only living
Punished for being

Nobody saw the intelligence in her eyes
It died in all her strife, fights and cries
Nobody heard the confidence in her voice
It left when to live on, all she had left were lies

No one saw no one heard
They only perused, they only shushed
Poise and grace, her ultimate test
Mastered both yet didn’t get the crest

One of the lucky ones, ironically
For making it this far without being dead for all eternity
Part of another dwindling statistic
Part of another cause, a new uproar, much too futuristic

She is the mother
The sister and the daughter
The creation held as the closest to the creator
Yet she’s the one struggling to make it into the future

Her only fault, to be her
The only reason, her.

Copyright © Sahitya Poonacha | Year Posted 2014

Please Login to post a comment