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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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