By Richa Sharma
The lie frowns from side to side,
Tears slide down his eyes.
Is this what she felt?
Like the thunder, there just to scare her,
Smoke there to choke her in its wisps.
Did she also fall down to her knees
As they proclaimed the lover's demise?
Oh! What a joy—
What a joy it was, that a young chap was killed,
A joy as his innocence made him bleed.
That the shiny eyes, oh so bright,
Would never open again.
Those arms so strong, would never cuddle
Never hold in arms the one to whom his herat belonged.
That his forehead would never again feel
The warmth of true love's kiss.
What a joy indeed,
For he had committed a crime,
A sin in the eyes of all,
A betrayal to God's desire,
For loving me when I was not his to admire.
High in standard, high in grace,
loving a lion trapped in its cage.
Maybe, surely I was cursed,
For she is a mother, and her child was hurt.
She didn’t have his blood on her hands—
unlike my own
She was but a victim,
Of a sin ,half of which was mine.
Living was my punishment,
A man loving another was my crime
By Richa Sharma
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