RISHIKA GUPTA
Half of the things I confess; about half of those I lie.
Half of the times I try to survive; more often you make me die.
Half of the things leave a deep wound; about half of those I cry.
Half of the times I am pleased within; but more often I just try.
Half of the times I am candid with you; but more often I am shy.
Half of the times maddened with your bluntness; I await a comforting reply.
Half of the times it’s about your choices. My opinions are choices which you deny.
My thoughts are going unspoken; each droplet is falling dry.
Each day I wake up with a heavy heart. Life is giving me a grin sly.
Devoid of your tender speech. I am failing to understand who am I?
The anguish abuses have broken me in pieces; incapacitated, ruined, here am I.
Lost all my strength & faith & optimism; the hope that I can ever be I.
My thoughts are now quaffing me. I wish to just un-cage myself and fly.
I wish to de-tangle everything on my mind; rest in peace and rise high.
I am wrecked, bushed, mislaid, secluded; there’s nothing which can give me a relieving sigh.
Departing from your illusive and hazy world; while leaving this puff, I bid you a happy goodbye.