• fromwitchpen 8w

    ᴛᴡᴀꜱ' ᴀ ꜱᴜɴꜱᴇᴛ ɴᴏᴛ ᴛʜʏ ᴍɪɴᴅꜱᴇᴛ

    Daubed lip-rouge, one of her
    mother's red shawl she wore
    as a sari rigidifying her blouse
    to get a deep neck as the line
    which appears betwixt her
    mother's breast always made
    her curious being unknown of
    her surroundings she put her
    lips under her teeth orbs up
    to give a winsome look

    Her childishness
    captured the eyes of
    her dadi descrying
    this all she checked
    the time sun was
    starting to set she
    stormed inside her
    room tore her dreams
    and said
    "You are her daughter, that
    woman's how could
    I think you will be
    different from her
    she was a prostitute
    and so are you,
    This sunset is such a
    bizzare old man who
    once stripped off her
    truth as she danced and
    abutted death at this time
    so are you trying to be her
    at this tick of clock,
    This sunset is a malison"

    /And the sunset under the kef of myths
    mourning on human's mindsets/

    #myth

    Is it just me or everyone's miraquill is not workin' ?

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    The sun set behind the backyard of my mind, morphing my soul into treacherous twilight.
    ©fromwitchpen