Colours of the festival

Colours of the festival,

Red, green,  blue or pink

And a myriad others,

In the several spinwheels,

Trinkets, candies and balloons,

A dream of thousand colours

In every little girl’s eye,

One like you, and

One like me!

Memories of the wicked man,

Holding high the sprightly balloons,

Caught up in his dirty clutch, both

The balloons and me!

In the loud shrieking cry of my throat

You saw kids’ petty fancies,

Had I but a twin, she’d have known

The filth he had dumped on me!

The festival swallowed me up

A little toy crushed under a thousand feet,

I stood there mute and scared

Lonely, lost and abandoned!

The vision of a lovely dream

Blurred at the hands of Abuse

No healing touch could ever soothe

The scars he had given me for life!

I shudder at the thought, Of

that dirty balloon-man,

With slimy touch and evil looks

Scarring my soul like never before!

Today, as I write these lines

I know of a million such girls

Whose souls are crushed and spirits torn

At a fateful fest, party or park!

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Picture Courtesy: Internet