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The Girl Who Was Harassed
It all started that night,on a lonely deserted lane;
A girl lay unconscious, semi-naked and in pain.
The police was called, the people were informed,
This was the day, her life headed for a storm.
The media asked,"What do we call her?"
They came up with a name,
"The girl who was harassed".
She wanted peace, somewhere away from the noises,
But she couldn't avoid her inner voices.
Or could she?
She thought and a way she planned;
To end all the suffering, herself she hanged.
Candles were burnt, slogans were made,
All a little too late, for in her grave, now she laid.
Soon the revolution died, all the posters were stashed;
She was forgotten again,
The girl who was harassed.
© Anandarupa Neogi
A girl lay unconscious, semi-naked and in pain.
The police was called, the people were informed,
This was the day, her life headed for a storm.
The media asked,"What do we call her?"
They came up with a name,
"The girl who was harassed".
She wanted peace, somewhere away from the noises,
But she couldn't avoid her inner voices.
Or could she?
She thought and a way she planned;
To end all the suffering, herself she hanged.
Candles were burnt, slogans were made,
All a little too late, for in her grave, now she laid.
Soon the revolution died, all the posters were stashed;
She was forgotten again,
The girl who was harassed.
© Anandarupa Neogi
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