You were born as a fairy to your mother;
As a second daughter, it didn't bother.
You might have been eager to enter the cynical stage;
Where souls like you are raised to entertain the audience.

You were the hated cast till your body was fine;
But, it got changed when you were around 17.
You felt a parasite blooming in your veins;
And started devouring on your delicate parts.

When your eyes encountered it first, they felt numb;
Still, you were forced to perform on the stage.
The audience loved the weaver of your life;
But, the real hero was your soft heart.

You are the lake of your houseboat;
Which is occupied by the Cardiri.
You need to tolerate their invasions;
Till your boat leaves to the west.

"Sun sets in the west!", the forefathers used to say;
But I have seen it emerging from the East .
So, rise from the east for me;
And replace that sold weaver of your life.

Poor me will be waiting for your genuine smile;
On the banks of Dal.
So, leave now but, don't let the absence last long;
Remember, there is still your naive son, facing the East.

Written by Taskeen Lone
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