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I told my Maa
My forehead wont be streaked with red,
But I will colour my hair like fire
Flowing down my head.
My neck wont be collared
By black beads of a so called 'honey',
But decorated with solitaire of my own money
I wont drag bags of trousseau
into a house,
But will tighten the straps of my backpack when I climb mounts.
I won't stay inside the kitchen
To get my face clouded in smoke,
But do something great that will
Get my face on billboards
I wont let my head
Be bowed down to stones,
But will square my shoulder to show
Its steel in me and not ropes
'Nonsense ' she admonished
'What do you want? To be a thrown out?'
' I want change.'
She laughed, ' be a girl not rebel'
YOU ARE READING
Creative Diary
PoetryA simple poetry book by a girl who believes , the more she sees world the less she desires to live.
