she is inspired by the wind
but cannot withstand the pressure of the storm
she is desired by the peace kings
but she salivates in the present of the greedy warriors
who hunt for more like the verocious termite
she is the illusion every minds posses
her beauty engross all eyes
she is mannered like the fable goddess
she is like the ripe fruit along the road side,
that every hearts wish it could fall on their palm
she had always throve with the heart of a dove
but now she is been throttled by the emotionless men of fury
she is weak but her soul is weaker
she play in the glare of her haters
it a pity little hen wish to play on the mountain where king eagle dines
she soon face the consequenses of love
tears fell around her cheek like leaves in autumn
she can't hold more in her chambers of secret
for she became susceptible to all abuse
they want it more but she bear the grieves alone
she is burnt by her community male chauvinism
she wonders if it's same God they both beseech
she had err and come short
and she was blamed like the tortoise who is a victim of all tales
my lady become a parable of wrong choice.
lovely!!!
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