Should she stop?
Cease the feeling,
The cold dense vehemence,
Of all the reactions around her?
A hundred questions,
But all she gets
Is a glass cage,
And one small scratch,
Feels like a huge gash,
Inflicted over and over,
On the same wound.
Like a satin cloth,
Torn to bits,
And thrown away into the wind,
Now lost,
Owning nor a soul,
Neither purpose,
Just fading coloured confetti,
Dancing in the grey all around.

Would it be too much,
To hope
That the world will care,
It’ll give it’s nonchalant motion a rest,
And stop to realize that she’s hurting
And there are scribbles of codes
Written by the dried tears on her cheeks?

She shuts her eyes in anguish,
And dreams,
Like ships that sail away,
Out of reach,
Who knows if they’re really there,
Or it’s just the longings of the mind?

Does it sound pretentious?
She doesn’t want to know,
Let it keep pushing on,
With laughs that nobody can see through.
Would it stop the world,
Just cause her life’s stuck on repeat,
In the debris of the same memory?

She’s not trying to be the best,
But nobody wants to be,
A numbered tree,
Slowly awaiting
The strike of death.

She was no Ajax,
The fabled bulwark of the Achaeans,
Who, unable to deal with the dishonor,
“conquered by his own sorrow”
Falls to finality,
Upon his own sword.

Stay afloat,
Stay stronger,
She assures herself,
Even when all they talk,
Is to tell how wrong she is,
In this Oh! So perfect world!
Her burning insides,
Pains to care everytime,
When the damn world is fuelled,
By selfish gains

Why’s there such a huge gap
Between everything she does
And everything she wants?
Between everything she knows
And everything she feels
Why can’t she just give it all away?

And looking past,
Those metal bars of her cage,
She tries to feel the warmth,
Of the evening Sun,
Instead her bruises melt her skin away,
And the whip she’s hiding from,
Lashes out.

Why do they say things they don’t mean?
Why do they give their word,
Without weighing it?
Was she that difficult?
That they resorted to run away,
Than to pull her out of the dark trench,
That she keeps falling deeper each day?

The storm has ended,
And she’s calmer.
But there’s no chances left.
What’s the use of tears,
After a bloodshed?
What use are flowers?
Placed soberly over a grave?

Like Maleficent’s stolen wings,
Would your betrayal turn me evil?
Would climbing up to the sky,
Far from the chaos,
Remain the only end to this suffering?

Did she turn around,
One last time,
Searching for the hope,
That she’d never found.

But they have their backs turned to her,
And the grey world refuses to notice.
The rusty tin roof,
That sheltered her grieves from the sky,
Will break down,
No more is she just an actor,
No more does she need to talk it out,
No quests in search of help,
Or happiness.

Just the last few steps to the sky,
And  finally all the peace it has to offer,
That the world could never give her.


3 Comments Add yours

  1. SillyShruti says:

    Beautiful 🌸

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you!😁✨ Have a nice day!

      Liked by 1 person

      1. SillyShruti says:

        Welcome. You too have a wonderful day🌸

        Liked by 1 person

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