It was the one who knows how to destroy, and the people tend to enjoy
Destroy of not others, but of me & for the relief, I preferred to bend on knee
It always created a bundle of problem For this, one can create an album
When I preferred to skip I realise it has a strong grip & then it flip by taking a ride in ship A ship of anger that was my challenger.
It was the one, who knows how to destroy. It was my hate, having a big gate that always ate my served plate.
By : Anjali Satyarthi
The world knew,they were two
The connection between
them was a clue
A clue for the tag
“Made for each other”
That was quite apart
from even a mother
No,No I am not talking about love
It’s all about the last breath
It’s about the Death.
They two were,
The body and the soul
Just like an actor with a role.
They say you die twice,it sounds really nice.One time when you stop breathing and second time a bit later on,when somebody says your name for the last time.
By : Anjali Satyarthi
Welcome to the Rape Culture,
where a man is considered
to be a vulture
Very thirsty, very hungry
If not fed, may be dead.
But this vulture do not feed on insect
On the females they detect
Their lust, their thirst.
Oh Dear Bastards, Oh Dear Rascals
Don’t your sisters dream of any castle
Or you people are genetically jackals
I wonder how your moms tackle.
By : Anjali Satyarthi
Rain for some,shooting stars for many
Something is yet to come,
but no possibility for any
Thread knots for some
Temples for many
Silence like a dumb
But inner voices in plenty
Tight fists for some,
finger cross for many
Yes it sounds fun but it is the cherry
Christmas Eve for some,
New year for many
Waiting for a turn
That was quite hard to carry
Rain for some shooting stars for many
By : Anjali Satyarthi
You were the lightening
I was the tree,
Your words were the fire
That burned the best parts of me.
You were the frightening
I was the little kid,
Your outcomes were the symptoms
From which I can’t get rid.
You were the documentary
I was the folder
You were the summary
I was the tolder
You were the memory, I was the holder.
By : Anjali Satyarthi
She thinks a lot,but she don’t say much
It’s just like, liking a flower without touch.
She avoids to socialize , hates to mobilize
But if you totalize, she was a paradise
Beautiful,Dutiful,and plentiful
Always in search of solitude
People judge this as her attitude
She was an adventurer at heart
But an introvert by birth
Yes,she was an Introvert
That made her always hurt.
Poetry-a wonderful soul 