Woman’s warm silent womb
Holds sweet child as muscle and bone;
A soldier, at peace in a tomb,
But wars unfought, epitaph unknown.
The inconsiderate world cares least
Of the name and one’s fame
Fragile and young, can’t counter the beast:
The innocent soul is stabbed by shame.
Forsaken by her dearest love
Her hands shed tears of red
Sharp blades lacked mercy on my dove,
Her mind scarred deep, as she bled.
She sat by the breathing window
In her sad unsympathized tear,
The gloomy moon cast a whispered glow
A call of hope from a stranger near!
Time and age might help to cure
The radiance worth of queens and kings
Battered and bruised, she’ll fight for sure
My angel with broken wings!
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matured writing....really thoughtful.
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