Blackholes and Graveyards

By Khushi Gupta

I walk in the garden of hopeless dreams left in vain

I drown in seas of disconsolation and melancholy in Bahrain

I breathe the air of unsaid words that never left the mind.

I sing praises of the aspiration held on a leash over time

I dance to the hurly memoirs and sick beliefs.

Holding on to the mediocre griefs

I listen to you and reset the tunes

A desire to pursue you

But fear of loss and death always accrue

I dream of a family

I wake up to the reality

Neverending pain

I whisper to the rain

What am I

If not the blackhole for everything that is dáinn

Black I swallow

Black I bleed

Beauty of sorrow

Almost always there but never really seen. Fire at my feet

Burning me alive

Vultures feed off the remains of my heart

But on the pain , I thrive.

Skin itches

Scratch it away

Sins crawl

Wash them all away

Am I mute

Or just fluent in silence

A masochist

I send you my grievance

Soul

Cold. Left alone. Still , I rise

From the ashes

From the burns

From the clutches

And the turns

Victory is mine.

It has always been mine.

Conquer is what I do

I lay flames of resilience at your shrine.

Bodies after bodies

I slash

Killed myself

To memorialize the birth of the best

New skin

New face

New wish

New craze

There is beauty in being set ablaze

Nail me to my coffin

Watch me rise again

From the graveyard of my forced silence

From the boulevard of my chilling penance.

You can't erase me

Try your worst

You cant faze me

I've eaten and become my own curse.

By Khushi Gupta