By PARWAAZ
A woman has died in me
A woman of disease with a lack of peace.
An animal who would toil and ask nothing
A dried leaf who would flutter and flinch.
A victim of sex, an object of jest
Who would only moan at her best.
A giver of life, a dutiful wife
For the treacherous world; alas! so naïve.
No, it’s not death, but a murder
A phoenix reborn, you could shudder.
A cool shade for you to rest
With all respect and no more jest.
A spring of love for you to thrive
Together we grow, take a long flight.
A place of trust and compassion, for you to fall apart
Together we are complete, and broken, when kept apart.
I am a woman of strength you can’t barge
I refuse to be dumb, I now take charge.
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