The dead flowers, 
crawling into my spine, 
the spoilt, on my every breath.

My veins coloured with that 
black cloud,
once blue, 
It turned out it was only my hues. 

My empathetic heart, 
divine, as all called, 
descended with me, the only thing I had left behind. 

Crowned my own queen, 
long rein the melancholy in me, 
dazzling from within, the real power of me. 

I left a trail, 
if you follow, 
a sea of vows,
strings of eternity,
sprinkled with my naivety, 
if only it could ever last. 
 
Find me,
beneath the crushed chaos, 
but don't call me back, 
I am a poet,
this is my purgatory. 

- Madhura Joshi