சஹானா இம்மானுவேல் மதுரே
You wanted it all;
Forced that sweet chakkarai out – broken.
Wielding a sword is not power when it is to a peafowl.
Is this the culture?
Looking around it chokes her lungs.
So to escape she chose to run, to fly;
But voices echoed it was worst than living in that cage.
You were darkness;
Hiding behind an angel – a verse.
Behind a storm cloud of whiskey, rocks and culture;
Pitied you were.
She freed herself from that blade;
She chose life away from the custom kumkum stained
forehead – does that haunt you?
As the years pass, your shadow hides in our soul;
Forgotten – a living ghost;
And as I look into the sorrow of mirrors past;
I wonder, if you see it too.