She

She dies a hundred times In the throes of spite and neglect In the agony of betrayal In the shame of defeat Yet alive with charred spirits And deep burns that shall not heal. Shut in the cage of servitude She lives an ugly duckling! Fed on taunts and threats Drunk on slander and slight Smothered by age old mores Manacled by custom and tradition. A door mat under crushing feet An expendable commodity Bartered away Or Bought at the highest bid. A toy to play with A curio wrapped in folds To be disrobed before feasting eyes And torn apart by man's beastly lust A chattel to be pawned and pledged. A chalice to be cast away When emptied of its contents. Yet she is silent Mute like a dumb animal But Lo! There lies an ember Down beneath the dying hearth. As the wind veers around The smouldering charcoal would blaze Growing into a wild fire With tongues of flame leaping into the sky That would ravage the Earth Leaving nothing But, Heaps of coal And piles of ash!