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Mar 2016
We are in the middle of nowhere
We cannot stop to listen to ourselves, to our souls that conjure
Mirroring the brokenness of our existence
Transient as ever, we talk to the hushed voices inside our heads
expecting everything, neglecting resistance.
We are stuck in the monotone of having to breathe
Bleeding tears of dismissed dreams, succumbing to a protective sheath
Which never was, always appeared to be
And there we are, waiting for forever to come, set us free
We have nothing to hold on to, yet have so much to let go
We are trying too hard to perfect our scars, tame our shadow
It’s a beginning to the end of what we believe we can make
Of the rubble we toppled down to, but there’s no escape
We are hanging on to plummeting petals of a dehisced flower,
One that never ceased to bloom,
Thrown adrift, by our tyranny’s power.
Written by
Stuti Chakraborty  India
(India)   
297
 
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