The Stitched Lips
On the hues of sunlight,
Sung birds chirping high.
Peeping through the morning window,
She harmonised the notes perfectly right.
She sung as the sun shone bright.
Came in mom, asked to make the pitch light.
She nodded - energy booming bud,
Lowered her sweet pitch in delight.
Sun went down,
Sunset was now in crown.
Night fell down.
"Learn to keep quiet",
Said her dad with word sliced in diet.
"Adjust with blows to heart and mind."
She hung her head; mind in lonely riot.
She had to speak a lot,
But tranquility hung in her abode.
She had to scream a lot,
Solidarity got up in loneliness caught.
She had to cry a lot,
She had to let her frustration out.
But knew none would get.
Knew, was the one to take in, not out.
Needle and thread;
She stitched her lips tight.
Her pen wrote pieces with blood
Dripping off her stitched lips.
A solitary boat rowing yelled high,
"I'm here to hear you out."