Loneliness is a bane
All my life has gone in vain
Left behind with solitude
Which is my companion till death
Come death embrace me in your arms
Whisper to me the silent song
Take me to the land of eternal love
Where i shall be found by the name
DEAD POET !
“You are sparkling today.”
“You look gorgeous with all that white.”
“You look so heavenly.”
She thanks them as she gets each one of those compliments,
Flaunting her white abaya with a perfectly pinned white scarf,
She feels beautifully alive.
But then, a wave of negative thoughts strike her shore,
A bolt of sadness shatters her half grown elation,
She feels entirely dead.
That white cover hides her mess, bandages her wounds,
Glues her broken pieces, lights up her inner darkness,
They don’t know, that white cover is her shroud.
She’s a living dead.
I write letters to the dead because they are quiet and they listen.
I write letters to the dead because they like the night as much as I do.
I write letters to the dead because they never write back.