Sitting, curved down
with my legs folded.
Dark cold, in ragged gown,
I've been scolded.

Hatred poised the innocent flower,
wilted the bud before bloom.
Eluded from its growing power,
and vased me in this dark room.

Several days without water and food,
the flower froze as in a frame.
Bonney structure lay as good,
player was done with his game.

No ashes sprinkled in my name,
No final words uttered in grace,
No one even came to claim,
And thus, closed went my case.

But I am, still not free,
from this bound of hope.
My spirit, searching for those three,
who later tied me up with a rope.

My spirit would not rest,
till all three are dead the same way.
Making them feel at their best,
I'll make sure, they all pay...



©sim