Sundara Kandam
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Her eyes did not waver for a second from that blade of grass, which whispered words privy to her trembling eyes, which were shut to all these loud sights and bright noises. They held their gaze even as her tears blurred the blade before drying on her burning cheeks. Not once did she raise them to look at the hideous form now threatening her with death. Her fury and disgust lay restrained between her clenched fists. She sat there like the unwavering flame of a lamp. Her eyes blazed, yes, but her mind suffered with the silent pain of the lamp’s wick.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Her eyes did not waver for a second from that blade of grass, which whispered words privy to her trembling eyes, which were shut to all these loud sights and bright noises. They held their gaze even as her tears blurred the blade before drying on her burning cheeks. Not once did she raise them to look at the hideous form now threatening her with death. Her fury and disgust lay restrained between her clenched fists. She sat there like the unwavering flame of a lamp. Her eyes blazed, yes, but her mind suffered with the silent pain of the lamp’s wick.
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