RED

Red, the color of her beginnings, her beings Red is the colour of her bindi Red is the colour of her saree one morning she woke up covered in Red When she thought her world was tumbling down The world around her cheered and cheered They wrote songs about her comparing to the fertile Ganges plains She shed tears of red, her freedom taken , her wings clipped And her face covered behind a scarf She was a ticking bomb Nobody asked her what she dream with those beautiful eyes Nobody listened her Agony The world just saw her as a woman They brought in a man for her They told she cannot do anything without him His lips were stained red He constantly chewed his pan like a donkey He is probably as old as her dad She young as a blooming red rose They forced her hand into his That night he dragged her to the floor With his breath stinking with lust and cheap tobacco Her white bedsheet were painted red Her innocence stained with red Her cheeks red Her eyes red The red bindi on her forehead slowley fading Her Red saree crumbled Her red lips bruised Her whole body bruised red Her beauty, and glory taken away from her Her bedroom felt like a funeral pire The night filled with her silent sobs Will this world pay the price The world awaits another day Another red saree , another red bindi Red was the color of her Beginning, her being and her ending.