By-Aakanksha Jha
There’s a red river that flows just behind the back gate of the last phase of the dilapidated colony,
There is someone in there,
Oh! It is plain old I.
Swimming in agony and anguish, bathing in brutality, hearing the cacophony of cruelty, gliding through guilt and it does not seem to end, drowning in death had never seemed so devastatingly beautiful, swimming in self blood had never seemed so serene, so soulful,
Pain had never felt poetic before,
Oh, I don’t want to live no more,
My heart is empty and I have nothing else left to give, my years of youth have been spent searching for a second of tranquility, but trepidation is the only remuneration I have received
Maybe loneliness is the path destined for me,
Maybe I don’t deserve a shred of peace.
The wounds I have inflicted upon myself have proved to be futile
It seems there is an awful lot of misery left for me to taste.
My finger nails chip, just like my teeth, I am falling apart, in front of them, as I breathe.
They stare, stare and stare, leaving me to deal with my destiny of despair.
There isn’t an ounce of humanity in them, they make the word ‘human’ a disgrace.
They rejoice as I crumble to shreds,
I hope there aren’t humans left to see after death.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
This poem has been published in the book 'The Last Flower Of Spring'. Buy the paperback copy on Amazon: https://tinyurl.com/y9sydnxn