This early marriage?
Makes me old?
Before fruits of my time ripens. ?
I am a broken statue
Of a young persona.?
I carry life,?
But I am too short?
To reach the sky
Of Joy.?
My fate is?
An erasing composure.?
I have been lost?
In the kitchen?
Of never moving mountains
Of pain.?
A child I am?
Merely a child
With childish dreams. ?
I bleed excessively?
In the hospital bed,
A child giving birth to a life?
I chime the death bells,?
Risking two lives.?
What age-old sermon you preach
And call yourself?
A society??
Look through the lamp
Of your soot
And educate yourself
And become a healing marvel. ?