In My Own Light.

By Ankita P. R.

Like a moth chasing a butterfly's flame,

To shrivel through my lifetime.

Like a rat is to a rabbit's game,

Trampled upon my own limelight.

Like a cover is to a book,

How swiftly they assume,

That I am just what I look,

And nothing else presumed.

Wondering the power of lust,

In the withered hues of summer,

The sunrise is a must,

Yet the sunshine is a bummer.

Let them whisper and chatter,

Their hemlock holds no defiance.

For blossoms that bloom in the latter,

I shall be my own alliance.

By Ankita P. R.