By Vritti Seth
A ballad so old,
A ballad so new,
Some knows,
Some knew.
Under the heavens, under the sky,
Stood a girl, drenched but dry,
Clothes all dripping, barren was the soul,
Everything was nothing but one goal.
Up she looked, crouched on the floor,
Fire she breathed as she couldn’t take it anymore,
She wiped the warmth and let the thunder in,
Strived towards her place and made a win.
After some years , she was just so glad,
To win her war after fighting bad,
More than that she was happy to fight,
And not surrendering as she might.
She rose from the ashes, a phoenix reborn,
Victorious, yet haunted by shadows forlorn,
A bag of insecurities, a burden she bore,
Trust eroded, her spirit sore.
The past, the phantom, whispering fears,
Forcing her walls to rise, year after years
Tears would fall, a silent, bitter rain,
But vulnerability, a forbidden domain
Yet through the storm, she still stayed,
Standing alone, a different day,
A fragile flower going through its bloom,
A symbol or resilience, come what may.
The rose is still red , the colour now more dark,
The black liquid never for once,
Stopped dripping from her heart,
Justice came, but at a bitter cost,
The pain remains, and nothing is lost.
By Vritti Seth
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