It’s in the dark,

The moon shines.

Its pallor,

Alighting the night.

With the sunrise,

She’s lost her time,

Now the innocence,

On verge of dying.

She sees red,

Hands, though tied.

She has felt the dead,

Take a flight.

She is destruction,

With unfurled winds,

Of iron, strong

A song she sings.

It tells a tale,

Of unkempt fury.

In this court,

She is the judge

And she is the jury.

Written as a guest post by Shivanshi Bhadouriya. A budding writer and poet.