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By Yugadya Dubey

No tears left to cry,

Was there anything else from which I should pry?

I guess there was nothing left but regret,

Oh well but it's better than an end, nonetheless Great.

My body has been drained of whatever was left,

No tears only silent sobs,

Yet I always said there's nothing to fret,

But still staying glassy and watery, were my brown orbs.

I no longer have the energy to run,

In this race called Life,

But in quitting, what's the fun?

As all this stays on the edge of a knife.

By Yugadya Dubey

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