The Poetry Marathon

With her head high,
as proud as a peacock,she walked.

The crowd paved way for her.
They looked at her,
some awing her valor,
some mocking at her back,
some with doubt,
some con-tempting her confidence,

They pointed the healing wounds all over her body,
but few did notice her bleeding heart inside.
Alone in the crowd,as a rape victim,
she went forward with algae of sour pains deep within…

On my favorite chair,
cozy and comfortable,
with the cool breeze passing me,
I pondered on the third prompt.

A voice broke the air,
of a being who only hears the television,
who calls out for people who never answer that,
who remembers people who doesn’t even think about her existence.

Mom,sorry.

The acid tainted her face,
looking at the mirror,
she smiled and walked away.

He was a prisoner for a mishap,
people called him a killer,
he smiled and sat down.

He/She,confused,
looked down with contempt,
they called her transgender,
she calmed herself and started typing.

They all,
with different names,
different color,
different place,
all with the same anxious eyes,content heart,
wrote on ‘Magic’.

Yes,it is.
Different words,different moods but all with love.
It’s magic!

She murmured,softly.
Hearing the giggling voice,
I jumped out of my bed.

Giggling again,but can see nothing.

“Who are you?”,I asked.
“I am the one who lives for you,
I am the one who loves you the most,
I am the one who wipes your tears,
I am the one who gives the best of the kisses,
If others are something to you,I am your everything”,the voice said.

A hard strike,
I opened my eyes and saw my mom,
she threw the pillow onto my face and walked off.
I hugged my pillow tightly,
“I am the one who beats you the hardest,only for this hug!”,the voice from nowhere murmured.