She Bled A Lot Poem by Mehta Hasmukh Amathaal

I saw worry lines on her face
She was not at all happy in any case
She had been abused and molested
It has been kept secret as requested

She bled a lot
As she bravely fought
But it proved futile
She was left alone to die

She is feeling hurt now
But refuses to part
Any of her feeling
It is secretly killing

I notice her quest
For doing best
But past memory fails her
There is need for her shining hour

She is turning past pages
Childhood has gone with age
She is now fully grown
With an identity of her own

This kind of atrocity in woman shall continue
Women may suffer but may not be viewed
They need to be fully organized
The banner of revolt must be raised

“Mom, I shall never find “ she confided once
The honorable path of any kind”
This past memory kills me from inside
The opinion from soul and heart clearly divides

I felt so sad being mother and woman
I was sore at being treated as inhuman
She has passed critically and withstood
I can never forget it and well understood