by Shantanu Chatterjee.
Distant glories and offshore cheers,
Standing on that edge and feeling childish,
Portable and flexible emotions , I know um gonna get the best letter from my Mother, brother , Father and relatives.
Sick , Dry lips , Starved, Beaten , Scratched , disemboweled , Mutilated , Grasped underneath the bed of fear,
Picked up once or twice , Does it even matter ?
You never wanted a daughter , rejoiced or Low on her dismissal ??
The point being so vague , hate or haste to get rid of her,
Consciously drowning or acting living cursed energy around me,
I am a girl may be a human being raped , thrashed , killed and left to die again and agian ,
Even Nature is ashamed these days , she sits under the sun in that brown bench looking vague and paralysed,
Truth Blindfolded with the onset reverberations of panic,
Forgeting the purpose what she lives for else feeding her mind with guilt , hate , fear,
She is that Girl , Mother , Wife , Daughter , starnger , Sister trying to be the best version of herself ,
Roped dreams , Red Eyes , marks of overridden love , firm , stiff , cooking to maintain the rhythm ,
When dad used to say little princess , whatever may happen , may the society gets darker , you keep your heart green like a leaf,
Her hairs doesn't smeels the same , she stand holding the window pane after making tea ,
Its time to ponder upon the "she" factor , keep your faith live and strong , mess with your fear because you know you have a purpose,
You were born to be good everyday, emerging evolving every minute , lit the fire up and set your doubts on it ,
Your mundane spirit begs you to be the best ,
You can save the rest ,
Stare at your scars and yet you get stronger ,
Here its time for the "she" wake up , lift your spirit , coz its time to open your red eyes,
Its time to heal your wounds , its time to question , its time for blood against blood , its time for your baby girl to wake up smiling ,
Its time for the "she" factor no more frightened souls and we strive to save the rest.