I have a story waiting to be told,
It’s a tale of woe of a dispirited soul,
It’s a common story, quite centuries old,
It’s a tale of a heart
that had been
left out cold.
She’s a typical girl, not too wise or a big fool,
She lives moderately, stomach always full,
But her heart sometimes aches
as she’s always expected to be cool,
and follows orders sometimes likes a mule.
Days turn to months and months turn to years,
At last she wonders;
‘Why do I let slip all these tears?’
‘Why am I
expected to hold on to this burden?’
go on and on her mind boggling questions
as she
stop for a little while
and makes a lifetime worth of turn.
‘I’m just a girl, a second daughter of six,
I could not afford to be demanding
Even if I’m sick,
After all the sacrifices I made, heart tied to knot,
I’m still stuck being the sister
That I know I’m
really not.
I wanted to be better, I really tried I do,
But never all of these efforts means anything to you.”
So she wailed and wailed till the time flies by,
And sooner people heard there is a missus that has die,
Not due to measles or fever or poisonous snake,
She died due to a common heartache.
That’s all to it, this tale of mine,
Not that I claimed it’s superbly fine,
It’s just a common tale, quite centuries old,
Waiting and waiting for it to be told,
If you folks who read this,
Could not quite understand,
You just need to open your eyes
but see from inside,
There is always, always someone; like the girl who had died.
Sometimes she's far from you, sometimes quite nearby,
you'll see her for sure, if you really try.
