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Born to weep, after a dream?

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Why Are they happy  when the son is born, born to oppress and leaving her forlorn? In a world  where freedom's song was sung, She wonders why  her voice feels so unsung. Years of independence,  yet still in chains, Her safety questioned,  her dignity stained. In uniform or clothes deemed too brief, She faces fear,  not finding relief. Age is no shield  from a cruel hand, Was freedom just for men,  she can't understand. Blamed for walking  in the dark of night, While sons roam free,  their wrongs in sight. Not even safe  in the place they’ve grown, She asks,  where can she safely roam? Taught to know a touch  that's pure or vile, Yet who teaches the son  to walk a better mile? Why must she learn  to survive and fear, While he escapes  without ever shedding a tear? Twelve years or more the story remained same, Justice was denied  under the government insane!
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Live a little, Laugh a lot!

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"Laughter, my dear friend, is like a cosmic chuckle button – the ultimate mood elevator, the comedy conductor, and the happiness elixir. It's the secret weapon the universe bestowed upon us to spread joy, so don't let it rust away! Your giggles are the magic wand you can wave to turn frowns into smiles. No matter what's going on, remember: if life gives you lemons, squeeze them into a laughter cocktail. Sip it, savor it, and watch your worries dissolve into bursts of mirth. Why let life's little pinpricks pop your joy bubble? Those minor blips on your life's radar aren't worth the drama, my friend! Save your brain cells, they might come in handy when you're solving the mysteries of the universe. And please, never hesitate to laugh, especially at your own goof-ups. It's a power move! Let your chuckles remind those tiny mistakes that they're no match for your colossal spirit. So, here's to laughter – the cosmic confetti that decorates our days
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Faded beauty with lasted memory!

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  Why do you cherish the dead ones so much? He asked! They live forever in between my books… I replied adding… Fresh ones, Cherished for it's beauty; Dead rose, Is beyond the beauty. Fresh rose, Smells so sweet; Dead rose, Smells for memories. Fresh rose, Gives the feel of softness; Dead rose, Gives the feel of the past. Fresh one, Bloom for days; Dead one, It forever stays. Fresh one, Remains with the rest; But a dead one, Is like a secret close to the chest. To which he added, Fresh rose, Has petals so smooth, And with a gentle touch They soothe. Dead rose, Crinkled and dry But holds the whispers Of that last goodbye. And then left….
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