You kill her, the moment you find out that it is a "she" in her mother's womb.
And if you do spare her life, you dump her in a trash can, or abandon her on dusty roads, and if she's unlucky and not rescued, the filthy trash can and the dirty roads become her tomb.
She always thought that she'd be mom and dad's princess,
Right now, she's a princess too. She's a princess of and among the trash, the most beautiful thing among vegetable peels, leaky batteries, egg shells and broken glass bottles.
She lies in there, in the darkness of the trash can, but surprisingly she isn't afraid, because the darkness in the trash can is nothing compared to the darkness in the minds of those who left her to such a fate.
She doesn't feel bad that she was abandoned, she feels hurt because people thought that she was trash.
Did a tiny thing like her, who didn't even understand the meaning of hate or ever feel hate, deserve this level of hatred and isolation?
Why didn't they just kill her then and there? Why did they leave her in this miserable trash can where she dies a slow and painful death? Why does she have to kill her time and the beautiful days of her childhood in a gloomy, smelly dustbin?
Things would have been different if I was a boy, she lets out a sigh.
She then, for the first time in so many days, raises her head, looks out of the trash can towards the shining sun, smiles, and then waves, as she says her final goodbye.
YOU ARE READING
Heartbeats: Poems on love, life AND LOVELIFE
PoetryMy first attempt at poetry. Poems written from the heart, which can only be understood BY THE HEART...
