This is not the beginning or the end
of the treason she faced
from the countless edges she has descended
She is the mother of passion
with the heart of gold and emerald.

Long ago from the past
the cuts and bruises she carries
has the hope of outer freejoy
but not with the creatures around
who burnt her soul  with claws of hatred.

Her life is a rose covered with thorns
pick her up and you will feel the pain
With the worse she has faced
she walks alone in the dark
she is a sister suppressed in an ark.

Fate is what we find guilt in
But its the  black hounds
Who made them puppets
Burn yourself and you will know
The endless pain which does flow.

Lets make the day full of vows
Paint the pain with colors of joy
Release her from the black hounds
Mothers and sisters with love around
Honour and respect all around.