An Indicolite Rue

By Bhakttipriya Srinivasan

Pain wasn't a new subject,

Nor was death,

But anything that hinted at it,

Would mess with her head.

"Don't worry, he's in a peaceful place" they'd say

But sometimes consolations aren't the best way.

We know you care,

and your sympathy is oh, so appreciated,

But you can't extinguish,

The agony that was created.

She was left all alone,

Not on purpose of course.

And people would call every day,

To shake their heads in remorse.

It broke her,

The whole event.

But she was told that,

To her happiness,

It shouldn't make a dent.

So she dug it all,

Deep underneath.

And to no one would she,

Let herself breathe.

Help.

What a funny word.

By Bhakttipriya Srinivasan