A Quiet Masquerade

By Sonakchi Pradhan

I suffer in silence, a shadow unseen,

Pretending to be dead in the world’s routine.

A ghost among the living, I quietly tread,

Carrying echoes of words unsaid.

But here I stand, out under the sun,

Its warmth a solace, though battles aren’t won.

Fragrant winds whisper through the air,

As if to remind me, I’m still somewhere.

In the glow of light, my mask may fade,

Yet I hold on, in this quiet charade.

For even the sun, with its golden thread,

Cannot unbind the silence I’ve wed.

By Sonakchi Pradhan