Life stabbed her, wittingly, numerously,
she was fooled by the masked people,
she felt ditched, at times, among the false truths,
she desired love, but never demanded,
she endured unbearable agony,
she was washed against the waves, causing her hit the rock bottom,
but she fell down only to rise again.
Now she is, brandishing her weapon against all pain,
the damages have further beautified her,
what she fears is not her fears but stagnancy.
Always growing is her desire,
wearing monotony and despair is not her attire.
Mirth has usurped gloom,
and the girl is all ready to bloom.
Strong she was but stronger she will be now.
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