Dear Lady in blue-green pieces, This letter is from another lady, years away from you. I breathe each day in a home that has more walls, than people to hold. You are addressed a woman, for a reason. Long ago, it was Draupadi, but soon, it will be you. Disrobed? Worse. You will hit puberty and this time, you will bleed, not just once a month, but for months to come. You will see your animals die, your plants suffocate without the oxygen they give, and you will change YOU will no longer have blue green pieces to break into. Some brown like the rusting loyalty your humans own to you, some black like the skies that we shall fill with our rush for money, oil and *humanity.* *No one will be free, dear lady. And at last, as you shall reach your death bed, gasping with the chant of "Atmanirbhar," in the distance you will see parties rallying, while a virus masks their already masked skin. The end will be clear. We shall lose, to you. Or is it now, the other way around?
From, A lady now too used to ambulance sirens and full hospital beds.
*Maybe, if earth hadn't been a lady, she wouldn't be in trouble? _shinereverie_
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