#WritcoPoemPrompt49 @AtulPurohit
The days of slate and chalk,
Are not easy to erase,
They hold memories,
Of my childhood,

Why does she bear the image
of her younger years
as if it's the worst playing movie
she watched in her DVD?

Perhaps it's her faded innocence
that happened
in the years of her childhood.

It's the rusted irons that
relentlessly controlling the beat
of her chained heart.

The light of the blinking bulb flashing in her memory
was the light she saw of the wretched night.

How can a child be ashamed
of the gazing stars and moon?

Cause they were the only one to witness her disgracing naked tears.

The giggles of the little children are the sounds of which she always envies
perhaps she also giggled but had been oppressed by the muddy path.

she was a blooming flower
Until someone decided to sip her nectar
Gone is the sweetness in her blossoming years.

Such a beauty she'd like to blame.
Once her gleaming eyes,
and now the gloomy sparks.

For someone like her,
there is no magic to diminish
the markings in her once fresh youth
or a fairy tale story to save her
from her prison tower.

Their bright and sunny innocence,
but her dark and rainy memories.

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