I am dragged to one secluded corner of the room by an unknown woman,
I don't think I know her,
She looks like my mother but is too brave to act like her.
Well, the story continues...
While she dragged me, I had a vision
In which the abuses he hurled at me in the past were visible,
The most recent one being called a bitch.
A child born of your blood is called "bitch", Well that's unfortunate I thought and stopped the train as in haste.
What do you say, my dear reader, was I right?
No, I don't mind being called one,
Should I let the opinion of one man leave an ugly impression on my mind?
Sometimes I think I should let all the abuses be absorbed,
Some day I am a little braver,
And pity him for his words.
To be frank, I find the later section more courageous, full of valour
So, I tend to hear from an ear and take it out from another.
But the woman today made me stand in a corner,
Went back into the room
Asked him if I deserved the words he spoke to me?
I apologise but it doesn't make any sense,
Why is she talking about me?
Doesn't she know I have learnt to live without being affected?
Yet I heard her
And remembered someone telling me It's alright sometimes
When someone decides to stand for you.