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Anshita Bansal Poem
She should have stayed at home
In the kitchen
And cooked food for the family
But she went out
Wearing jeans and a full sleeve top
And so fate handed it to her
She was asking for it.
She should have thought about her family's "dignity"
And worn clothes that hid every inch of her skin
But she went out
With her eyes visible from the burqa
And so fate handed it to her
She was asking for it.
She was screaming and begging for help
But the people passing by steered far away
Because help would come later in the form of candle marches
Until then, society shrugged
She was asking for it.
She lost her pride, her innocence, her self-respect
And got kicked out of the house for acting provocative
Her faith in humanity was lost
But when she was lying on the hospital bed
And bleeding inside herself
Newspapers reported-
Was she asking for it?
Copyright © Anshita Bansal | Year Posted 2015
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Anshita Bansal Poem
I've been looking for
a reason
between unknown faces,
in faraway places.
I feel lost.
I've been looking for
some hope
in abandoned hearts,
their broken shards.
I feel broke.
I've been looking for
life
in a sea of tranquility,
among clouds of anonymity.
I feel numb.
I've been looking for
myself
in verses and hooks,
torn pages of books.
I don't feel.
((12th August 2015))
Copyright © Anshita Bansal | Year Posted 2015
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Anshita Bansal Poem
The bang of another door shutting
The click of another lock
Trapped in my own mind
Somewhere no one can find
Another lost piece
Of this puzzle that's my heart
In a maze of confusion
Like an illusion
You can be the key to that lock
You can open that door
You are the missing piece
That can complete me
If only you want to.
lIf only you want to
The chaos could lead to a miracle
We could unravel mysteries
That have boggled people’s minds
Everything that seems so far away
All the gems I can’t reach
You could be the magnet
And pull them close
Just like you’re pulling the strings on my heart
And we could together conquer the world
If only you want to.
Copyright © Anshita Bansal | Year Posted 2015
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Anshita Bansal Poem
Harmless words carelessly scripted
Black letters staring at my face
From a page half torn out of a diary
The diary I gifted him on his birthday.
I could see his fingers tighten on the pen
As he made the curly letter ‘s’
When he signed his name
But the ink was blotted there from a drop of tear.
For the eighteenth time that day
I traced the letters on his name
Obsession is a funny thing
It takes over when all else is over.
But I think I saw the letter
Before I opened the door
Because when jealousy starts stemming in the heart
Windows are the only escape.
((16 August 2015))
Copyright © Anshita Bansal | Year Posted 2015
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