The Futility called Life

angry she is, enraged, furious
helpless because of the feelings churning inside her
confused because she is unable to fathom it
she knows where it will end
she knows because she has been there
yet she traverses that path again and yet again
it is like walking on broken glass
each step cuts deeper than the last
and the blood that leaves a trail
bear a testimony of griefs and turmoils and joys too

is it really so difficult to accept a pure soul
that is offering itself so completely
is it really difficult to trust such a one
who has proven time and again
that she loves with an intensity that is eternal
is it not apparent that she who can win over any mortal
feels with ever fibre in her being for just a one,
a one ... who fails to understand, to comprehend, to appreciate...

PS: this poem is dedicated to a feeling called - WOMAN...