She is more than unicorns and rainbows.
She is more than yellow and pink.
She's deep and dark, like stains of blood.
She is stronger than you think.
For she breeds, for she bleeds,
for she feeds all our needs.
And yet she has to hide and cry.
I ask 'why?'
Goddesses are supposed to be free.
She is you, she is me.
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This is a short poem I wrote for a street play in my college on spreading awareness about menstruation.
Shout out to all the Goddesses.
I'm grateful about the 1k reads. Always thought it will reach 100 at max, but here we are.
Thank you, whoever took time and efforts to read this book (or atleast open it).
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Thoughts of a Juvenile
PoetryWords are sharper than knife they say. Yes it is true. Some perfectly moulded good words can both make and break a heart easily. A poem is a group of such perfectly moulded words given wings to fly. They fly through the mind and heart easily. A hob...
