Is It My Fault?

By Khwaish Aggarwal

Is it my fault, the silence thick,

Like a wall too high, too quick?

One wrong step, one slip, one fall,

And suddenly, I’m nothing at all.

Your eyes pass over, but never land,

Like I'm a ghost, a grain of sand.

A mistake—was it so grand?

To erase my voice, to drop my hand?

If love is patience, if love is kind,

Then why does yours make me lose my mind?

Should I fold myself, should I be still,

Let you mold me, break my will?

Should I suffer, silent, meek,

Swallow words I long to speak?

Let you strip me down to bone,

A shell that bends, a mind you own?

Is love a leash, a muted breath,

A slow erosion into death?

If I am wrong, then tell me why,

Why do I feel I’d rather die?

No answers come, just empty air,

A hollow space where love was there.

No fight, no words, just quiet scorn—

Is it my fault I was born?

By Khwaish Aggarwal