Becoming a woman,
Songs sung dry,
I walked to the bazar,
Men smiled with eyes that gore,
...
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A poem that reveals the ordeal of suffering that a generation of the little angels experience ever. The poem deserves to be lauded for its enlightening element towards a new resolution to be designed
The ordeal of suffering the Indian experiences has equations in the Caribbean lands and Africa. The need for a universal panacea has to be in the prime concern. Thanks for being frank and for pondering...