'A Ballad of Her'

Exactly 506 words to describe a soul of 'her'. 

Very simple words for the ones who actually wish to understand.

Lost was the childhood,

Unknown to the monsters,

Unknown to the touch,

Unknown to the adult content,

Just her and her playful silly head. 

She can't say that anymore,

For she, once in life, 

suffered something unknown... 

She felt it was wrong,

But her playful mind 

played the game of innocent soul. 

She grew up to be 

a beautiful teen,

No matter whether 

her shape, height, 

place, religion, 

age, race, or 

even her mental state,

Just her being a girl 

with the female features 

were enough to compensate. 

She was made aware of 

the dark truth,

behind a mystery gift, 

behind the smile, oh so shiny trap,

behind the casual touches,

behind those luring, tagged as friends. 

Suddenly, 

she started doubting 

every little aspect,

Even if she's in the 

four walls of home, she slept. 

She started doubting 

every other soul and 

act sensitive even if 

they were mere frank. 

She won't ever be 

carefree again,

What if she becomes 

one of the victim 

some day...or night?

She no longer 

won't be safe 

in a sacred place, 

What if it hides the

 disgrace with grace? 

She studied hard,

To gain more skills

To live in these shrills. 

She learned to fight by herself,

To defend against the world. 

But guess what?

One day,

A night, maybe... 

Her dressed in covered casuals 

or in pretty party dress,

Crossed path with the demons 

she'd been fighting in distress. 

The mere nightmare 

became the reality as lifelong terror. 

Her soul left her body,

Long forgot those defensive errors,

And that huge piles of knowledge. 

The only thing her mind 

could register was the 

suffering pain and 

panic of abduction. 

She tried hard to save herself, 

but those monsters shut her mouth 

and soul with the deed they did to her. 

Either she was murdered 

and those criminals were still set to free 

with no solid proofs as a big deal. 

Or she somehow breathes some more 

only to witness herself 

tagged as agenda at some door. 

She craved justice, 

which asked for proves even if 

her painful sobs and bruised body 

weren't enough to explore. 

At last, 

she gave up, 

thought death is a way to peace. 

How did these sadists prove her wrong

By enjoying the dead body long cold.

She believed that even if she lived, 

people will be captious,

Whether with pity or with accusing expressions. 

Let's come forward and 

make her believe in the world 

from heaven above,

That yes, 

there are people who truly care. 

Support her,

Not by candles, 

Or black days,

Or banners,

Or the agendas. 

But by being open to 

teaching the youth,

What it truly means to be masculine 

enough to respect the feminine. 

How to treat a male or female with respect, 

With manners and etiquettes,

With the mindset in check,

With the safe distance to be kept. 

No need to look out for them. 

There are thousands of people to look at.

Just stop looking in any way. 

That'll be enough for them to pass the rest.

-Himzy

I'm just a writer, who can convey and support through my words.

Your little cooperation and sharing it as much as possible may bring some change.

I don't know who'll think what but for me, I wrote in place of every 'she', and 'her', present out there.