Colours of the festival
Colours of the festival,
Red, green,
blue or pink
And a myriad others,
In the several spinwheels,
Trinkets, candies and balloons,
A dream of thousand colours
In every little girl’s eye,
One like you, and
One like me!
Memories of the wicked man,
Holding high the sprightly balloons,
Caught up in his dirty clutch, both
The balloons and me!
In the loud shrieking cry of my throat
You saw kids’ petty fancies,
Had I but a twin, she’d have known
The filth he had dumped on me!
The festival swallowed me up
A little toy crushed under a thousand feet,
I stood there mute and scared
Lonely, lost and abandoned!
The vision of a lovely dream
The vision of a lovely dream
Blurred at the hands of Abuse
No healing touch could ever soothe
The scars he had given me for life!
I shudder at the thought, Of
that dirty balloon-man,
With slimy touch and evil looks
Scarring my soul like never before!
Today, as I write these lines
I know of a million such girls
Whose souls are crushed and spirits torn
At a fateful fest, party or park!
Picture Courtesy: Internet
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