Her spontaneity will cease
rhyme and reasons will become grotesque
vindictive life will stick the claws.
Encompassed by complexity,
time will hang heavily on her will
outright assaults on the citadel of her soul
shyness and quietness will vanish
she will counterfeit pleasures
humiliate climaxes,
her spontaneity will cease.
Rhyme and reason will become grotesque
she will lay and suffer
but still stoical in her duty.
Life will be her burden,
unable to elicit response from her
at her ripest, she will be sour and bitter
she will wail at the prospect
of becoming experienced,
her spontaneity will cease
rhyme and reasons will become grotesque
her only silver lining will be ‘still alive’.
Humour and touch of worldliness
will become history.
she will vigorously ply and ply
to repaint her azure dreams
with absurd emulsion of
barren and perturbed emotions
her spontaneity will cease
rhyme and reasons will become grotesque
body beauty will become a pudding of flesh.
Attempts to fathom emotions will prolong
flabbergasted soul will face-
methodical assassinations of her thoughts,
passion, sprightly essence and her inner self.
Her self will be a testimony before passing
the final sentence- a convict of matrimony
her spontaneity will cease
rhyme and reasons will become grotesque
epitaph will be ‘the end’!