She lay still in a veil
While the porch hung from the creaking branches
And as the clouds camouflaged the crescent
I could hear nothing but a slow wail
The noise of dry leaves being crushed
Penetrated the dead silence of the night
Scared I was, and frozen to death
If only, someone could have see the plight
Dead, she was long back
They only stopped the heartbeat
Enslaved, she always was
Death, only liberated her...
---Sriram
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