There is this girl I once knew;
A lot different from the one you know now-
From the length of her hair to the colour of her skin,
You wouldn't recognise what she has turned into now.
She had a different walk- her strides were longer, a little clumsier.
Her smile was a little more brighter; her laughter- a whole lot louder.
She loved words and stories. A good book, a movie or a simple life story could leave her excited like a child faced with water.
She would talk to you about it all day, sometimes repeating herself again. You see, she was a lot more livelier.
She'd mumble poems under her breath depending on what her mood was like,
She'd go into hibernation on the bad days, seek refuge in words; and come back, evolved, like a phoenix, to take over life.
She would take time to open up. But once she did, she would grow on you.
She could make you feel lighter on your blue days; she was like a cucumber when faced with a strife.
She was like every girl you have met,
but she was also unlike any other.
Yes, she has her monthly cycles and carries a womb within her,
But she wasn't the kind who could, one fine day, magically metamorphosise into another.
Treated like wax, she was liquidised and poured into a mould.
She fits that mould perfectly now , only, she isn't herself.
She bites down her tongue, lest she sound wrong.
To refrain from saying things, she is now adept.
Her stride is softer, her voice - gentler;
but she seems a little less alive.
She doesn't try new things anymore-
She now seems a lot less naive.
Her eyes don't light up anymore, her mould suits everyone perfectly, but her.
Only if they had let her unravel, before she decided to shut down her door.
She wasn't perfect , neither were the rest.
They sure got what they wanted, only, she was a lot more.
A lot different from the one you know now-
From the length of her hair to the colour of her skin,
You wouldn't recognise what she has turned into now.
She had a different walk- her strides were longer, a little clumsier.
Her smile was a little more brighter; her laughter- a whole lot louder.
She loved words and stories. A good book, a movie or a simple life story could leave her excited like a child faced with water.
She would talk to you about it all day, sometimes repeating herself again. You see, she was a lot more livelier.
She'd mumble poems under her breath depending on what her mood was like,
She'd go into hibernation on the bad days, seek refuge in words; and come back, evolved, like a phoenix, to take over life.
She would take time to open up. But once she did, she would grow on you.
She could make you feel lighter on your blue days; she was like a cucumber when faced with a strife.
She was like every girl you have met,
but she was also unlike any other.
Yes, she has her monthly cycles and carries a womb within her,
But she wasn't the kind who could, one fine day, magically metamorphosise into another.
Treated like wax, she was liquidised and poured into a mould.
She fits that mould perfectly now , only, she isn't herself.
She bites down her tongue, lest she sound wrong.
To refrain from saying things, she is now adept.
Her stride is softer, her voice - gentler;
but she seems a little less alive.
She doesn't try new things anymore-
She now seems a lot less naive.
Her eyes don't light up anymore, her mould suits everyone perfectly, but her.
Only if they had let her unravel, before she decided to shut down her door.
She wasn't perfect , neither were the rest.
They sure got what they wanted, only, she was a lot more.
👌
ReplyDeleteThank you.. :)
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