It trickled down slowly
Then got united
Made a line
Started flowing
It passed through the dressing table
Where she combed her hair
It got out of the closed door
No one was outside
No one waiting for her
No one to ask
No one to hear
At last it reached the garden,
The soil hugged it
The soul of the dead girl sighed in relief
At least her blood found a home.

– Hardika Sharma