Inner Wreck

By Harshita Gupta

There seems no way out,

but this one comes easiest of all,

like a poet stealing his own prose

just to write it on his grave,

like a nightingale feeding

on the eggs of its own kind;

everything feels foreign,

my DNA and my mind.

Like the chambers of my heart

fighting among themselves,

like trying to escape your own shadow,

like the deepest sea suddenly turned shallow.

The battle within me ends

with me defeating me,

I lose, no matter how much I win.

By Harshita Gupta