She

She long poem

Photo by chris favero

She Keeps a Love to Nurture her Immature
And a Vigor to Sacrifice the Fruits of Nature
Her Dreams are Curtained Behind the Window Panes
And Chained into Darkness with Teary Stains

Her Audacity of Giving Birth to our Family Seeds
Still we Question her Dignity from those Impure Deeds
The Blood She Shed, Covers our New born ward
She Carries our World, till our Seed takes Birth

In the World of Fashion, She is cursed of her Attire
She tries hard to Speak, But Finds Humanity to Retire
In her Days of Blood, She is Tied down to Endure
Closed behind the doors, She finds Tears Her only Cure

No one Questions her Pain but mostly Her Purity is Judged
She is Suppressed by fear, And her soul to be Grudged
Her smile passed several Torments, loosing her Sanity
At her Demise, the Tears of Candles covers her Pity

She’s a Way to Conciliate our Needs, In Times of Loneliness
But She’s still a Pure Matron, To relieve our Stress
No matter what her Deeds are, She’s serfaged with Suspect
She is Treated with every Rancor, And without Respect

She holds the nerve to love her man with honour
And In return she’s gifted with a life in the corner
Sensitive to Love, the most Able Birth of our Nature
Has a Cartel to Pride, and Mature the Immature
The Pure Creation of Nature that God has Ever Made
Treat her with Nurture and Her love will never Fade

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