A Cry….

 

In the middle of the road she sat,

hands pressed hard against her chest.

Her eyes were filled with fear;

Her lips pressed against each other.

She couldn't move, any effort was moot.

A cry for help she conjured!

A cry it was,  though not of help but of fear and sadness.

She could feel those prying eyes,

Trying to snatch and tear her flesh.

Ten thousand thoughts crossed her mind, ten thousand escapes.

All that and more she tried and failed.

All that was left was her blouse in pieces.



The animals left; nothing was left of her.

Not just her flesh, her soul they scratched and snatched!

She was never weak, never ever was she fragile.

The water broke and the real world appeared.



The irony of the incident was her dichotomy.

She could remember feeding the animals,

That was lunch-time, she was in her primary!!.......

©ManashJBorah

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