By Adhya Dinesh
Forbidden truth
treasured in this sinking ship
I pace, back and forth
between the lie of my existence
and the vain yearning for
The final broth, its taste
Pathetically I paint
the notes of my piano,
purple and yellow,
with, the figurative notion
of a fruitful death
I love my Italian vase
filled with roses of prejudice,
humming to my reflection
I decorate my body, with ruby diamonds
Wistfully, they watch, they gaze
Time and time again
I vow to stay,
but the glow of the lamp flickers,
with every, monotonously beautiful day
Dramatically, I sigh
I am the creator of the shambles
of my life,
“Pity me, pity me” I breathe
with both hands holding,
fistfuls of gold
Irrespective of the tune
they play,
every starry night
I lay on velvet pillows,
walls of my suite listen as I scream:
Hang me,
Hang me, my dear cavemen!
If I don’t make it past 25
please learn;
I lived