By Samaira Sood
Perhaps I’m a sickle,
Or am I a scythe?
Or am I the nightmare that makes its way into your dreams?
Grace was under the impression that she liked full sentences.
Yet she always seemed to find solace in between each syllable.
Grace claimed she loved all festivals with lights,
Yet it was coming back home that always mattered to her.
Perhaps I'm a sickle,
Or am I a scythe?
Or am I the nightmare that makes their way into your dreams?
Mike always seemed to swim in a pool of exuberance
Which he called “life”.
Yet he was the one who wrote: “Don’t fear the reaper.”
Finally, when the door opened-the wind appeared.
The candles blew-then disappeared.
The curtains flew-and there, he appeared.
Funnily enough, Mike found immense tranquility
With his journey back home… with the reaper.
So I ask again,
Am I a scythe?
Perhaps I’m a sickle,
Or am I the nightmare that makes her way into your dreams?
Arjun told his friends that he loves horror films.
What a shame-for he lied.
For when I saw him, he only seemed to watch those
Four hours of continuous images flickering before him.
For a moment suspended in time?
For that thrill in watching a doorknob rotate for 50 seconds?
Or jumping when somebody appears out of nowhere-
That was euphoric for Arjun,
Living in that dimension he created in between sound effects.
Perhaps I’m a sickle,
Or am I a scythe?
Or am I the nightmare that makes his way into your dreams?
I know not.
Rather, you know not.
For I can’t seem to be caught-
For whatever I forethought.
And it’s all because of you.
You, your friends, your family, and this universe.
You-the crooks of this universe!
That overlook. That overshadow.
That have made pauses-
An amalgamation of nothingness, like me-
Into a wrathful noble knight.
Tremble therefore, tyrants of this universe.
For now, when I hover above this world,
My days of lamentation are far behind me.
For this knight… has turned his lament into wrath.
So, If your mind, your heart, and your soul are kingdoms-
Then I am the royal knight of all abandoned kingdoms.