Part (i)

Words under no circumstances speak; actions certainly reflect,
For each step taken ensures noble or remorseful effect.
As night falls in despair; left completely single-handedly to suffer,
World is too inhuman; occupied with people never think what they utter.
They prove themselves to be truthful; masking veiled tales;
None to blame but thyself… in silence their dishonesties gales.
They cut-off her wings so under no circumstances might she soar again,
From all the agonies and dreads this woman hid her in imaginable secret den.
Bleeding and wounded; severe pain surviving with untreated scars;
Tried to overcome, fighting to escape and run missing some place far,
Battling with her own self, would she ever or not ever flourish;
A day she might bloom, stand one in millions as Flores.
Hope could undeniably dwell even if entire world’s in despair,
Ups and downs come and pass away; have plenty time so why not prepare.
Sun a fiery ball, blazing and mighty, but sets as soon as the time moves close.
Just a right day, right place and chance the whole world will stand to applause.
She’s been chained, hand tied together, left to die within a dark room.
Nothing ever takes breath away more rapidly than the gloom.
Killing her everyday yet doesn’t agree to remain below any charge.
How extensively would you be successful to keep her away with barge?

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