By Khushi Gupta
I walk in the garden of hopeless dreams left in vain
I drown in seas of disconsolation and melancholy in Bahrain
I breathe the air of unsaid words that never left the mind.
I sing praises of the aspiration held on a leash over time
I dance to the hurly memoirs and sick beliefs.
Holding on to the mediocre griefs
I listen to you and reset the tunes
A desire to pursue you
But fear of loss and death always accrue
I dream of a family
I wake up to the reality
Neverending pain
I whisper to the rain
What am I
If not the blackhole for everything that is dáinn
Black I swallow
Black I bleed
Beauty of sorrow
Almost always there but never really seen. Fire at my feet
Burning me alive
Vultures feed off the remains of my heart
But on the pain , I thrive.
Skin itches
Scratch it away
Sins crawl
Wash them all away
Am I mute
Or just fluent in silence
A masochist
I send you my grievance
Soul
Cold. Left alone. Still , I rise
From the ashes
From the burns
From the clutches
And the turns
Victory is mine.
It has always been mine.
Conquer is what I do
I lay flames of resilience at your shrine.
Bodies after bodies
I slash
Killed myself
To memorialize the birth of the best
New skin
New face
New wish
New craze
There is beauty in being set ablaze
Nail me to my coffin
Watch me rise again
From the graveyard of my forced silence
From the boulevard of my chilling penance.
You can't erase me
Try your worst
You cant faze me
I've eaten and become my own curse.
By Khushi Gupta
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