By-Kaushani Banerjee
Another day you get to stay
for a while, let the silence prevail.
Glee can stop being fake
and we can all introspect.
Into an oblivious heaven,
our own personalized hell,
neon lights hiding our deepest cuts
the cold blood now starts to rust.
Since I don't know what blue is,
neither happiness,
you're always the one to tell me lies,
you build me up and shatter me twice.
Walking down the streets
you don't know why,
these scintillating lights tell the prettiest lies,
faithfully yours,
the neon lights.
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This poem has been published in the book 'The Last Flower Of Spring'. Buy the paperback copy on Amazon: https://tinyurl.com/y9sydnxn