WITCH by Tiya Singh

Witch?

Tiya Singh

She was a wildflower,

In a world full of roses.

Rare, Bizzare and hard to find.

Amidst the glamour of the material world,

Her worth was often undermined.

They deceived her identity,

They pointed her flaws,

They told her she was futile,

For they were afraid of her power.

Was she the witch they labelled her?

Or was she just too smart for the world.

She was called a witch,

She was misunderstood.

For only a botanist, my dear,

Knows a flower's worth

Beyond its worldly dimensions.

Today I wonder

What if we let the flower bloom 

For she was born to make a difference,

For she incarnated to change the world.

But oh irony! 

They changed her instead.

She was scarred,

She was broken, 

She was virtually dead

But then she realised 

It was enough she'd had.

And when she rose,

from the ashes of her hope.

The one who saw magic in everything,

Realised the magic belonged to her.

And that ladies and gentleman,

Makes all the difference.

Tiya Singh is a budding young poetess from Jaipur, India.