A women's life is of her own,
This has always been,
Someone else's world, not mine!
A vivid imaginary of
Sad solitude in man's world.
It's a tumult of actions
Dreams and turbulent moments,
An eternal longing for
Inexistent love and desire!
A blast of burning air
Suffocating, fatal place,
I thought it as mine
Which cut me at best
Like a sharpened blade.
From a distant silence
I grow like
a plain, old bird,
Who is never meant to be free!
~Natasa
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