Through the silent pink evenings ,
I walk with their whisperings.
I hear me feminine, or me so black,
Not this time I let my peace hijack.
Each pothole reminded me my fall ,
when they mocked that I had no balls.
Gradually, my tears became a shame,
& my name turn to a mockery fame.
Not one day, mundanes didn't judge,
Yet, I'm pretty with my mascara smudged.
Let me be short , let me be tall,
Their words don't matter, I recall.
Bare me your judgemental looks,
For my portrayal was always mistook.
I kept wondering what will people say?
Whatever they'll think , I'll be happy this day.
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This poem won in Instagram Weekly Contest held by @delhipoetryslam on the theme 'What will people say / Log kya kahenge'