Gift of fatality

By Ankita Dwivedi

Believe in hurt

In shreds of self-esteem, submerged in dirt .

In the impossible it inspires

In the ice burning in fire

We are the devil in religion

Stricken by degrading reason,

Gasping in gripping grievances

I breathe pledge in dying advances.

Separating melody from mind

Arousing with a colossal find

Contrast grows pleasant to heart

But pain as it was , stays till the last .

You think, you have been selling stories

You think, I have been buying .

When you have stroked me, to ease my sadness

My dear , I have been lying .

There is a theft of integrity, in this changing season.

This is a gift of fatality , an appetite for poison.

By Ankita Dwivedi