Paradise
Paradise
She's been slipping
In and out of consciousness.
Drips and needles
Through the ruins of her surface.
A miracle might save her mortality
But her soul's long been dead.
She was going to the office
In bright daylight
Wearing a salwar-kurta
Avoiding the tights.
The chances of victim-blaming
Were bleak.
A classic crime
But with reasons, you couldn't critique.
The offenders will be tried.
Shouts of justice will be cried.
And after a month or so
The "news" will subside.
Ma sits beside her bed
Waiting for her return, failing to realize
That she'd run away in her sleep
And, God, I hope to a paradise!