The Cost of Innocence

by Tajalla Qureshi

The pain runs in her innocent veins
Like a slow poison injected to gain
Cold cuddling and accumulation invade
Gradually, it entertains the fades
Pale pop up the begging to displaced

A horrible stone calls a migraine
Faintness attends the occasion, of celebrating pain
Her sickly soul feels to be drowned
in the lake of bleeding aches and ground
Still, she appears in the nook phase
So far, the courage is savoring the grace.