Her red lip stick,
and little black dress,
her vehemence
and hair in a mess.

Her pointy heels,
intimidating smile,
her enchanting scent
and stares awhile.

Her back upright,
pride in her walk,
free from despair,
prancing, as they gawk.

Her unleashed soul
and exuberant voice,
reflecting exemption
in which she rejoice.

For now she denied
to be weighed down
and made the choice
of keeping her crown.

~K.  (कृतिका)

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