There are certain things which one could never express
life’s like a dream, you can never guess - what’s gonna
happen next; don’t expect me to be your little miss
sunshine, - I’m nothing but a ugly plain jane.
a wandering singer among the swampy bushes in a
Crusoe’s Island, standing on the cliff like Shikhandi
in penance. You may not appreciate my deeds
which I do or pay any of attention to my words,
you call me as an untamed animal of the woods.
From no where I hear my mother crying aloud
‘get down this instant, or else’ – thoughts died out
in the air. I overheard my old man whispering, “futile
being… no man would want to marry a crippled girl.”
Mary Binu
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/lines-from-the-heart/
