Kerosene

By Kashvi Goel

My nose is scrunched.

With every breath I inhale,

I reek of kerosene 

and of hot, smoky ashes.

I have set myself ablaze too many times

for my liking.

Hands full of thorns

had sunk into my skin

and dragged me

over boiling floors

While they hopped

on tall objects,

playing floor is lava.

They had gripped my hair,

tipped back my neck

till it cracked,

and discarded me behind bars.

I burnt myself 

and shed away my pieces

and passed through the bars.

I felt myself swallowed

in endless darkness,

too bright it stung.

Another pair of thinner bars

lay arrogantly in front of me.

I cut my skin over and over,

chiselling myself

to pass through.

And I did.

But I found myself in another

jail. J. A. I. L

It

was

sinking

in.

I am trapped, forever.

By Kashvi Goel