She was a Tainted Sigh…

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a trampled rose
bruised in purple sighs
its fragrant innocence lost
in harshness of suffocating dust
is a callous blasphemy
of nature’s generous blessings.

a bird maimed
its wings torn by cruelty
watches azure skies
with yearning to kiss clouds
and soar like hope.

she was untouched
sacred as an unfurled flower bud
unsullied and pure
as virgin glow of sunrise,
with naivety of dewdrops in
smiles like liquid rainbows.

she had incandescent dreams
her life a collage of scented desires
laughter like tempest cascade
exuberant with silver syllables,
a poetry scribed in incense
by versatile moods of life.

but marauded she endured
the sacrilege of her tainted virtue,
like a song scattered in
whithering petals faded and scentless,
her cries lost in indifference
and her frail attempts
at survival futile she became
a dead, burnt leaf of fall,
vagrant and forgotten
in the humus of melancholy.

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