The might of the pen she wrongly uses,
to paint a picture, an image that induces,
a portrait of her that brims with lies,
one that laughs more often than it cries.
Tales of hearts those were ruthlessly broken,
And stories of betrayed men were carelessly spoken;
only the one blessed to hear more than the said,
could hear the muffled cries as she constantly bled.
7 comments:
This is just so profound...
Read it over n over again..nice one!!
-A silent visitor
(just had to comment on this one! ;))
Thank you silent visitor! Hope you break the silence some time soon! ;)
Who is she? And why is she so tormented?
I don't talk to strangers. :)
Hmmm...so even the worms have their moments of glory! Stop sticking your tongue at them...haven't you enjoyed the limelight at least once?
True...better not to probe into the unsaid!
(Ignore the previous comment please...as it was meant to go to the next piece "Matrix". Oops...this is what happens when one types all the comments on one day into tiny little boxes and the rituals that follow...)
@Sridevi
But I... am the probing kind!
@Sridevi
yes, I have had my share of limelight. But as someone said of it once - it is like a far; you can only stand your own. :)
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