Ever wondered, who would care,
if one’s life was taken.
Wouldn’t it be so uncommon?
It seems there is no one,
to turn to, no one to hear,
no one, even wants to see through.
The perils of life had
pushed her down, and
each time she tried to rise up,
the strings of sorrow had
just pulled her down,
to the depth of the darkness,
where no ray of hope, could
neither enter, nor pick her up.
At times she had felt,
to give in, and let the
darkness consume her;
but, then she remembered,
the strength builds up,
only when the fight is on,
though it may feel like
a black hole, a dead end,
going round and round,
in a vicious circle.
And so she echoed and reechoed,
the strength builds up,
only when the fight is on.
