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The Untold Story of Her

Women in India

Story of Indian Woman

She was a chaos in herself,
messed in the wild.
lost and abandoned.
She loved grey the most, the grey skies,
grey color, and a grey life.
Tired of going through the black and white jars of life,
she chose for the mystical, hazy, grey shadows that bounded her life.
Her nightmares collided with her dreams.
The scars and the wounds are still unhealed.
Her dark abyss, profounded every night.
Those desires are feeding.
The bruises and marks, haunting her at times.
Her soul was drowning in the ocean of hopeless defiles.
She never wanted to be loved, but craved for being understood,
without reasons and rationality.
Every night, pillows became her second self.
And hope turned to be a dead disaster.
She was a saint and sinner at the same time.
A joyous extrovert with an introvert mind.
With ferny glooms, finding their way
Her smile struggled through a lot of cries.
But all along, the comets and stars took a sigh,
They were unhinged and damaged,
So her soul, in a way defies.
She was the brightest star of her galaxy.
A paradox with untamed whiffs
A magician with blazing wits.

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