𝚀𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝙼𝚊𝚛𝚔
Lingering at home
with shut doors and burnt dreams
I mourn
I looked out of the window
just like a prisoner
I grieve for light and mourn for freedom
I lost since I was born as a girl
I hide my tears
and go to my work, never ending work.
I am a machine
or slowly I am or would be
I wiped off my tears
'cause I was not meant for it
I look up to people with mercy
who stare at me intensionally
They harass me
They blame me
They torture me
My life is wrong, a life of wrongs
I look up to life
and put my head down
I turned back to my life
where thorns which pricked me lie unconcernedly
Candles do burn until it comes to an end
so do I
I rubbed my dreams for others to form
as my life is a blank sheet
with a question mark...
Writer's note : Everyone has the right to live and to do what they love.
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