Lost Solace

By Harshita Mishra

Oh to be God's favourite child

Oh to have the freedom to choose

I drink the ink thinking it would cure

my lingering pain

Instead it was liquor to my burns

The words- , The pages- 

They keep forcing me towards solitude,

the state I once escaped

 to be free of my own walls, 

to be favourite of them all.

By Harshita Mishra