(c) Shilpa Sandesh Her gaze is set, At the wide spread ahead, Lights glimmer, Racing motors on the road, And noises undefined, From far away; But no landscape can collate, With the bruised patches, in her heart; No motors are at par, With the speed of her hastening thoughts, And no clangor as loud, As the shrieks of her caged soul; Blaming is like, Plucking the petals, of a blossoming flower, To take the blames, Is like being pushed, To walk bare foot on thorns; It's a puzzle, it's a jumble, Her inner self is, Disarrayed, cluttered, It's a muddle; Those moments are no more, When she was, Besotting to his eyes; When her tears made his eyes wet, When seeing her in pain, His heart ached; She is a reflection, Of the fate's rebound, In the broken mirror; She walks, On the scattered glasses, And Oh! My feet are in blood!
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