Poetry · Reading time: 1 minute

The X-ray Machines

You find them in every, road and street,
Mostly condemning, rarely sweet.
The X-ray machines are, on the walk,
They don’t click pictures, but they talk.
Scrutinizing you, in and out,
Uh! They know you better, no doubt.

You’re so fat, you’re so dark
You look like a frog, but move like a shark.
You’re eyes are closed, when you grin.
By god Radha, you’ve double chin.
Your wrinkled face, scared my wit,
Hate your presence, every bit.
You’re pretty face but, ugly spots,
White sheet of paper, with so many dots.

They’ll see you from, head to toe,
So traumatic, every girl’s woe.
These dirty minds have, nothing new.
Every time you meet, only faults they view.
I hate them from the, bottom of my heart,
Now I’ve learnt, a beautiful art.
Whenever they come, I run a race,
So disabled they’re, can they chase?

Radha Iyer

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