It was a harsh rub,
A brush on the wrong side,
A bruise to the heart,
A hurt to the ego,
Killing to the core quoth she.
It was a rough trial,
An attempt to deface,
A conspiracy to efface,
A bash on the face,
Humiliating to the essence quoth s
he.
Well,it is their nature,
Made of such stuff abrasive,
Ever ready to be incisive,
Always intending to be reprehensive,
Assaulting to the depth,said I
It is an affectation very likely,
Presenting a broad smile outward,
It is fever and fret inward,
Casting a distraught onward,
Directing an onslaught absolute,said I.
Well it is their way of doing,
Beat them with a wordy sway,
Slash them back as you may,
Retort and rebuff at a bay,
Shrug them off with repulsive strain,said I
Born out of a wedlock prime,
The mother stern and sincere,
The father wise and revered,
You a child of meritorious steer,
March ahead ignoring their lowly deride,said I
Meenas Poems 