A Bubbly Smile

Those crescent eyes,
Bubbly smile,
Hiding pain on which she thrives.
It’s not her fault
That she isn’t born with X & Y.

A baby on back,
Sword in hand,
Sitting on a horse,
Killing the man,
Or
In white sari, listening the taunts,
All belong together with liberalism.

“Why not smile instead of tears?”
And she smiled, which didn’t reach her eyes.
Now that I look back,
Crescent eyes had unshed tears,
And the bubbly smile had quivered.