Helpless Woman Poem by Indira Renganathan

He and she and they can persecute
Number of times knowingly
Torturing her by many means they invent
Pleasure is theirs.She, wounded unhappily
No way of guarding herself

God! Foxes should be spiked only by God
Will they be sorry? no, hope not
Some are born to repent not
When they turn to be repaid themselves
Will she redeem her happy youth?
Gone are her days in the den of foxes
Foxes harassing roses into the flaming hearth

One foot onto the threshold of death
Dire her wish to be rescued..
Ere deadher mortal sheath
Frowning are her words 'cursed
Are you! others treated
Vehemently under your feet crushed
You be too crushed by the fury of God! '