Margerie Grey, some rendezvous prey
kneeling down to a box,

In my soul searching days,
was i a spectator in a glaze?

Hiding beneath a broken cross.

Margerie I remember, was 14 in such a december
when snow covered most of her spine
Her blood shot eyes and blood-less veins
Bleeding dust and chanting their names

Wouldn't it be all when books burnt with lives
And strangers cut with knives
would be long forgotten in a box?

I remember I was there
With the same pain and despair,
14 and holding and hand,

Dear Margerie,
Beauty is black,
but black is their soul,
don't stroke fire,
**** them when they are old.

Let them die with guilt and guise,
while you hold yours with memories of youth,

Margerie, tell them honey,
impatience is Satan's fruit!

Dear dear Margerie! show them your pride
show them you'll take them as your guide:

to intolerance and lies;

And a fake morgue in Paradise.

                       -Sukanya Basu