A poem

Oh damsel in distress, how silent is thy cry,

Unshed tears glisten into unseeing eyes,

With cheeks stained red,

Even as thy lip bleeds,

I beseech thee answer me,

Is it a necessity, they arise?

Or a mere want,

In a world that pushes thee back,

At every turn in which thou hast to surrender

Is there any use of thy cries?

In the eve of suppression,

Why does thou ask for a raise?

Lay down thy pen,

My lady,

For this a lost fight

And yet you continue to rise.

Hearing this girl replied,

It is not my destiny,

To remain bowed low or break before thee,

For it is I and I who remain in every heart,

Not cruel,

In every soul,

Pious,

In   every light,

It is I, who shine as truth,

Because my Lord, the eve has come,

When at last, in all truth and reality,

Will we women rise.

The women, as well know, is called love and again and again she loves back to destroy the man mentioned above whom everyone calls fear.

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