When I awake from my dream,
I thought, as if, I’m still in a dream.
My hairs were green,
My clothes unclean.
I felt different,
Am I different?
I pinched myself,
And pinched again.
Except, for that pain.
I shrieked, I cried
But no one replied.
Just an event tore me apart,
Their every word came to me like a dart.
“you are nothing now,” they said,
“Shut her up and let her dread”.
Was it my fault? I always thought
This happened because “you talked a lot”
I was accused, just like my dress
No one questioned who made me undress.
Now I am alone.
In this cyclone.
Is it a dream?
I always scream.