She lived
Harmorhage of blood, Midnight had seen her eyes, swollen by the custody of evil and the lies
Cravings in her heart that beated in, exuding through her mind, manifesting insecurity essencefully, with delirium of veins in grind.
The day was tinted darker than the worst poisons spell, with lack of choices left between The heaven or the hell.
The skin flaunting the hides of the burns of the age, every crease drew potraits, of memory that engaged;
The body was the body, the soul had seen the time, when excitement whispered stories to where anticipation followed the rhyme..
Nor the bonds of irons were there, Neither she was tightened through the copes, when knives described their sharpness, She showed mercy on the ropes.
The rope nor ordinary in colour or structure, It weaved the haunts of blame, each time the question asked her worth, She preferred selling herself for the game.
No one knows which era she lived, No one knows her name, Its said when freedom knocked her door, She said she'd fell in love with the cage
Copyright © Krisha Vadher | Year Posted 2024
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