By Arti Gupta
There are no broken bones
There is no visibility of pain
All there is to life are chaos and clones
Bleeding agony and suffering like the rain.
There are no bruises
Neither are there any scars
To acknowledge her ache the world refuses
There is no way to put them behind bars.
There is no end to her tears
For every second she continues to exist feels like years
To end it all she wishes every moment
For every day in her mind feels like imprisonment.
There is no light at the end of the tunnel
To express her emotions there is no channel
Staring at the ceiling she spent her nights
There was no reason to continue with all those fights.
There is no freedom out of this bondage
As an endless nightmare suffocates her in its cage.
For isn’t it a curse to be alive?
Regardless of what happens, to be expected to thrive
To be trapped in the never-ending miseries of life
To be afraid you’re never going to be good enough
To never give up despite knowing there’s always a knife
To search for happiness even when the path is so rough.
There is no hope
When not so far away there’s always a rope
Despising the ones who don’t exist anymore
Her screams remain unheard while they continued to roar.
For isn’t it a blessing to be dead?
To be free of the nights filled with dread.
To be at peace for eternity,
To have no chains asphyxiating you each day,
To not be a promoter of uniformity,
To have no fear of being the prey.
There is an end to her insanity
There is a way out of their brutality
There are no heroes in her story
Her grief and despair make death seem so glory.