The four walls within which she sits
are foggy with her breath's mist.
She sobs and weepes every night
But no-one comes to save her from her plight.

She waits for the postman to bring
her a card, a letter- anything.
Hunched, with the burden of taunts
and laments of which her body is the haunt.

The reel of her life
is stabbed to death with a knife;
so, whom they called an angel then,
is now a debacle, an augur of despair.

No colour meets her yearning eyes-
She's forgotten the hue of the sky;
The monochrome seems to abduct her
And theres' no way out- she has no saviour.

The society is her adversary,
That is based on myths and strange fallacies;
A society adept at making her a pariah
and intent on subjecting her to fire.

Least had she hoped for
To be a byword of the bygone
For she sobs and weeps every night
But no-one comes to save her from her plight.