The Waltz with The Angel

She danced it all her way through.
The odds, the evens, 
On a hope that once wrapped around her.
The hypothetical perfection that engulfed her.
The ground, the sky, her demeanour.
All were perfect.

The feeling of being obsolete and worn out.
Is what was least expected.
She never knew that someone could come along,
And dance along with her soul.
Move along with the rhythm inside.
Killing the demons and bringing up the angel side.

They waltz around the space that lied between them.
A long distance which condemned them from getting a glance.
But the rhythm died like any other song.
The story faded like any other epilogue of a story.
As numb as a paralyzed,
As frozen as ice.
They both stood apart.
Feeling the pain in the chest,
Yet feeling the love.

She said, "I don't know"
When he asked, "Why are you crying?"
But inside what whirled around was,
A vision of a deep crack beneath your feet,
A gap so wide open, that she was scared to step out from her shell anymore.
And he was scared of not seeing her at all.
She was scared to let her angels die.
When she knew her demons played with a dagger in chest

All they had was an awkward serenity.
A tranquility that they both hate.
Oh! Alas! What an irony.
Of the sea wave engulfing her feet,
Yet what she felt was peace,
But sharp nails of of falling apart.

She Was An Ordinary Woman

She was an ordinary woman, 
Living the very ordinary life that she inherited.
She was seven years old, when her mother told her,
"Beware, in this lousy world of men who never spare,
Even the slightest chance to humiliate,
First physically
Then verbally,
Till you are broken down, mentally."

She grew up, living in the dilemma
Whether to flap her wings and fly in the open,
Or to put them into shredder all by herself?
Should she be scared to live?
Or live to get scared?

But she, decided to live,
Not for the sake of brutally humiliating her dreams to death.
But for giving her inner human a second chance.
Of being fierce, free and flying.

Now, she was a grown woman.
A woman who woke up with the noise,
Of her neighbours beating their daughter.
A woman, who was harassed on the roads,
While a man pinched her butt, swayed through her thighs,
Saw her with the glare,
That one couldn't bear.
She was an ordinary woman.

She went to teach a few children,
Few adolescent, growing children,
Who kept staring at her in the places, which demeaned her.
She loved to dance, she loved to perform,
Express her soul in a way.
She could not express verbally, come what may.
But she was addressed as a prostitute!
Dancing to earn and fill her physical and erotic desires.
She was an ordinary woman.

While she tackled her angels and demons inside,
She dealt with all the demons around her.
One day they internationally proclaimed to be her day.
A Woman's Day.
But that was the day, few men came around,
Took her to an isolation.
And brutally ripped off not just her clothes,
But also the wings that one grew, the smile she once bore,
But now left with a bruised body,
Demeaning existence,
And her hear left numb yet sore.

But no, she was just an ordinary woman.
Who was taught,
To worship men.
To be and exist in a line.
"She was just an ordinary woman"