Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Mar 2021
At the end of the day,
You’re left lying in your cold bed
All that warmth you felt ,
Evaporated into the mist of the night.  
You feel empty, and lost.
You can’t dream,
Because it’s for the fortunate,
You know your worth,
And you know what you can never be.
You smile, a sense of solitude
The lost hope,
A glimmering promise
Lost in the depths of the world,
The life that we call our own.
The place for crime, and forgiveness,
Of success, but mostly failure.  
You thrive in the thought of your world,
What’s become of you.  
You’re lost, among the glittering fireflies,
Losing your little self you called your own.
You try to battle it out, but you’re bound.  
You cry out, no one’s there. 
You think about your life, and the forbidden realm
You know it’s the end,
Petrified, you hurry to scream,
You’re voice straining to make yourself heard,
You’re life in a nutshell,
And as your voice starts to rise,
You realise, you’ve dreamt.  

-Srijita
Srijita Chatterjee
Written by
Srijita Chatterjee  18/Cisgender Female/India
(18/Cisgender Female/India)   
779
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems