By Hriyanshi Gupta
What is it that I grieve for?
Unhinged unknowing sadness madness.
Harm myself,
And hurt my soul.
My life it was written in Arabic,
Spelt in Spanish,
Heard in poems.
What is it that,
Bit by bit
Ache my nerves,
Bleed my eyes,
Burn my initials and my only remains?
My life it was known to all,
Painted in black
Searched for, in the mirrors.
Divine my eyes,
It would land on none,
but the blood red bath.
The sweet lies,
It would manipulate
My own reflection.
So what is it that I grieve for,
I fear of,
Never speak of?
What is it that was never written,
In those pages of gold,
Carved with my blood.
so beautiful and expressive, it has such a beautiful melody to it, this poem gave me chills 💗
Got goosebumps!! This is so beautifully written. Amazing piece of poetry!💕