She exudes the radiant fragrance of her white jasmine smile as she walks through the day’s unfolding.
Come nights, she is a pomegranate
inhaling the breath of her red fury
beneath the veiled mask of the seeds that are her smile.
She is her own Government.
She is her own court.
Is she a Lady Robinhood?
To brood as one would?
Past tense.
P.a.s.t. T.e.n.s.e.
As transparent as lucid dreams
as pristine as newborns
was she, not long ago!
In a game called rape played by
four brutal men,
she lost her virginity.
As wildly as the game was played, she reacted.
C.o.m.e. b.a.c.k.
A great comeback!
Time is ripe and so is the pomegranate of nights.
Tonight is the big day!
As mysterious as the gossips engulfing the deaths of her three predators,
she treads through the mysterious valley,
wearing her mask for the final time.
Done!
All four done!
And finally, she marries death as her
eternal companion,
confessing to her conscience!
Copyrights @Brindha
Brindha’s blog 