The moon stays bright at nights where wisdom flows like a river of deeds, the night talks to the boredom girl who sits there beside the stream. Her beauty is not questioned as she lay there amidst confusion of who she is and what she wants.
The girl sleeps that night under a tree near the stream with anxiety clutched on like a life saving destiny but she knows that anxiety kills the deeds. Worried about death a part of life and life after the death she cries inside her mind as nobody would see how captivated she is to seek the wisdom of a little girl as she grows oldest.
Its time to go, the moon shouts, its time to go, shouts the stream, the birds stop chirping and the wolfs howl looking at the moon, well the girl that knows her death has come decides to grow her little girl inside to a grown woman to seek no pain from her fainted memory and she breathes for the last time crying at the treacherous men to whom she meant nothing. Her clothes with all the cuts and the bosom with bruises she lay beside the very river that she survived on.
(dedicated to all the women who were the victims of rape, molestation and discrimination.)