Skirt In Dirt

Dirty eyes around her

Played with her torn skirt

While she played with dirt

She did play with dirt

But she didn’t know

What it meant to play

With dirt

Till she actually

Was forced to be the

Dirt to play with

She lived

A death inside

And how that mattered

To the world outside

The world needed

Her skin

Not the soul within

And now something

Inside her says

Time for another skirt

Another round of dirt

And she asks herself

Should I??

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About neetuwali

Hi! I am Neetu. Who am I? This question is very difficult to answer. Well! If you insist, let me reveal. I am a human and like every other human I eat, sleep, drink, dance, sing, laugh, smile, cry and so on. Hang on! There is a difference. Unlike most of the human beings, I breathe and when I breathe, I relax. When I am relaxed, I draw. I draw sketches of me in words. I have been orbiting around sun for forty years now. I started this journey on the Valentine day of 1974. I have seen people craving for heaven and I was born in the only heaven on earth (Kashmir). My Grandfather was a spiritual personality and a renowned poet of his time. Though he left me around 35 years ago, I couldn’t let him go. I carry him in my eyes and mind and will do that till the end of my life. I hate words, yet I am full of words. I know words cannot express, yet I express me through words, because they are the only medium I am familiar with. That is why I try to express me as much as possible with as minimum words as possible. When I did Masters in business administration, I never knew, writing will be the only business in my life. More than hobby writing is a necessity for me, because it helps me get the load of thoughts off my head. I don’t remember when it that I wrote my first poem was. But I surely know the time of my last poem. Surely,not before my last breath.

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