Paradox
Sheena Choudhary
She is the fire,
That burns and bakes,
Melts and hardens.
She is the water too,
Weakening and strengthening.
She is the blood so crimson,
Thick as honey,
Flooding the sewers.
The plea,
Of mercy and death.
That ink blot,
Ugly yet meaningful.
The sourness of cream,
Distasteful and reality.
Recurring nightmare,
Scary but unreal.
The wounded tigress,
Vulnerable and ruthless.
The star,
Twinkling, diminishing and twinkling again.
The rust,
Killer, and waste.
The skipped beat,
Of Joyful and traumatized.
She is a multiverse
In the universe of people and places.
A paradox
Invisible and ever existing.
She is, but the darkest sheen.
Very beautifully written. You have tried to explain the unexplained.
Thanks Basudha. Women are considered as ‘complex’ beings, without any effort to listen and understand what they’ve to say. We’re fairly simple, only if someone lends an ear, not much is left to be decoded.
This is beautiful.