Copyright © DeekshaSarkar
The days I spend are the days that go by,
Often I ask myself the question – How and Why?
Being a woman is not that easy,
like the people around me sound like its so cheesy
A daughter, a wife, a mother of maybe five,
a sister, a neighbor, a friend to survive
Among these roles, the time which I spend;
no regrets; gorgeous, pretty and ten on ten
But somewhere between those fake smiles and uncleaned makeups,
somewhere between those eyes and breakups,
There lives a soul, naked and deep inside,
Away from the pretentious world, within me it resides
Between the folklore and the daily chores,
usually when the heavy rain on the window pane pours
“don’t let it out, be a lady”, they say,
and I stayed still, did everything their way
a silent storm, an ocean rooted,
buried inside the abyss of ‘being a woman’, rotted
being sophisticated and polite,
often suppressed and conquered without a fight
“let it be, you can’t change anything”, they exclaimed,
there was a voice within, thought to be in vain,
there was a choice to be made, but all they said,
“don’t be stupid, you are just a lady,
and we don’t give a damn of what you say”
The soul still lives there, weak and frail,
a cold flame, decayed and under a veil
another butterfly trapped in the cocoon,
hopes for the future still high, though a little swoon
You see, the days I spend are the days that go by
Often I ask myself the question – How and Why?