When the tall, velvet curtains swish and the play opens,
The stage will witness the same history once again,
Of the performers and their past, of their mind and their heart,
The lines of droplets on their sunken cheeks, of their tears and yesterday’s rain.
Their stands a little girl, her eyes hopeful, her smile joyful, her dreams huge,
She moves forward, the little thing, to where she wants to stand,
She wants to earn for her mother’s dress and her father’s medicines,
Oh, but my darling, that doesn’t matter in this land.
The sound of her hitting the stage hits hard, and harder,
Yanked down from the scintillating fantasy, to this murky reality,
She should have worn her shirt without any loose buttons, and the skirt lower,
Every scream she deserved and every slap she had invited, oh Lord, forgive the brutality.
Burnt, she laid; spent, she passed,
Her blood burned through the stage, turning faces at the smell,
Remorse, guilt and shame; a life too late,
Oh society, you play your part so well.
There stands a little boy, his laughter uncontrolled, his innocence enrapturing,
Can’t get enough of his kitchen set, his Mama fondly says,
Dabbling the kettle or waving the spatula, he does it all,
Enjoy, my love, it’s the last of your happy days.
Men don’t work in kitchens, the people scream,
Men don’t cry either, when what matters is taken away,
We are the ruthless, we are the dominant,
You fool, what a kind of a man you are, in a woman’s sway.
Gone is the boy of the days in sun, gone is his mother who brushed his hair,
The pit of despair, the tunnel of depression, deeper and deeper he fell,
In the end, the blade reached his wrist, pulling him under the sea of red,
Oh society, you play your part so well.
Oh society, oh society,
Why do you smell of blood and despair?
Oh society, oh society,
Why do you prey on the innocent and fair?
Oh society, oh society,
Who carved these murders on you?
Oh society, oh society,
Look, is that blood running against the length of you?
Oh society, oh society,
Why do your bloody fingers hold a knife?
Oh society, oh society,
Why are you holding it against another neck, claiming another life?
It’s you, the society smiles,
It’s soulless eyes and emotionless façade, registering no plea,
Realization slams in a twist of agony, soul-crushing agony,
Yes, its us, we silently agree.
The curtains close with a swish as the play finishes,
We console ourselves, it was just a play, just a dream.
Fireworks are sent off, awards are given,
But behind every smile of the performers, ‘SOCIETY’S VICTIMS’ are what their eyes scream.
~Anantinee Mishra
New Delhi, India
Philosophical & true indeed is the eyes scream of society victims.
Ornamental writing at a tender age
It is a reflection of a little mind but it is the content of present reality .It is an imagination of a society ,looks like female protestant mind.It is a poetry but reflects the real picture of a teen aged.Style sheet is good with good language.Above all, Anantinee, a small mind but big thought, deserves praise.
Excellent is a small word to describe.
Proud of you.
God bless.
Such a heart touching depiction !!! May god bless Anantinee.
Super story
Very good beta,best up luck ?
Good one…
Very meaningful…..
Too Good
This is sooo good Anantinee! Loved the poem .
Excellent Anantinee, what a composition at this little age. Way to go and best of luck for all your future endeavors.
Excellent Anantinee, what a composition at this little age. Way to go and best of luck for all your future endeavors.
Excellent Anantinee, what a composition at this little age. Way to go and best of luck for all your future endeavors.