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She stood there quivering,
Then about to speak the unspeakable,
Unbinding her tongue she opened her mouth
With a few words and a quaint sob escaping her mouth
Stood there blinking
Not knowing what to speak pain unfurling her heart
She looked at his eyes directly but could not even sound her pain
In anger he broke the silence and without any thought
He pulled out his knife and there she stood with her eyes filled with tears
Trying to speak what she couldn’t express
With her tongue out she uttered o’er there… and stopped
Lost in anger he cut off her tongue
Without being able to utter she stood unspeakable
For ever hidden
Behind the wound she hid her pain
The culprit walked free
He did not know that behind her pain
Was a greater wound than just this wounded tongue
Her eyes pleading to the cruelty of human heart
She held her heart and head high
Lost in thoughts to tell him of her story
She started writing her diary
Often up from her bed late at night
She dotted many a line
Words filled day by day
Lost in pain and writing
She finally grew out of it
Learned that her body is just a sheath
Beneath its layers lies a deeper soul
Untouched and full of promise
Weeks passed by and months followed
And she was fully ready
To tell her story of pain
Nobody was interested
But she parceled her diary to him
He had missed her a lot
And he knew it was his loss
Then this new turning
Surprised he stood in silence
He had her gift
Unbinding he was so eager
To reach for its content
To his surprise it was her diary.
Leafing through the pages
A thousand words buzzed his head
Not knowing what to do
His hands started shivering
And the last page turned open
I was ***** and the man is o’er there
It echoed: oe’r there, oe’r there
Realizing his mistake he cried out his heart aloud
He had wounded her double
Knowing now why it was unspeakable
How hard it was to speak
He begged her forgiveness

With a smile on her lips and warmth in her heart
‘Unspeakable’ she stood watching him.
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"The above poem was triggered by a newspaper article that pained her so much, that she felt at once the need to write."
  Jan 2016 jasmine fernandez
SassyJ
The snail strolls gently
Realigning hoped moments
A slow pace of consequences
****** and placed on tables
Harped to melodic tunes
Summed in upbeat sequences
The crescendo boils to ******
The climb of beats and undertones
All exposed and overlooked
The onlookers astonished
My ribs pinned out in pain
I squeeze to the cracks of normality
Attempting to slowly leap
To see the darkness of winter
To breath the stilled air
Yet, a hope lived, a life seen
We all shall make it to the end
Crawling to cut the finish line
Life seems slow but with minimal leaps. We shall all see the finish line. The aspect of living a "normal" life pain my ribs; up to the point the onlookers are astonished. We are all heading to the finish line, some things have to be embraced! But do we have to?

— The End —