Each night she cries in silence
Torn apart by the darts of unspoken words
Her emotions were utterly ruined
Left alone in the closet of her heart
Her feeble voice plead for help....
That night she prayed for a little miracle
But in vain she waddled through the mud
Of a dead passion
Each night she wept endlessly
Soiling her wrappers wet with tears
Saddled with the brunt of savage ritual
That defiled her sense of self....
Even now;
She suffers double brutality
As her wounded spirit helplessly
Awaits restoration!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem