Loveless

By Pratham Pagariya

Loveless, I walk through empty days,  

Where shadows linger, cold and gray.  

In crowded rooms, I’m lost, alone,  

A heart of stone, a soul unknown.  

They preach of love, a sacred bond,  

But what is love when none respond?  

I’ve chased it down, through nights and years,  

But all I’ve found are silent tears.  

They say, “Love yourself, it’s where it starts,”  

But self-love feels like hollow arts.  

A bitter lie, a cruel jest,  

When love has never come to rest.  

How can I love this weary skin,  

When no one else will look within?  

These empty arms, this aching void,  

Where hope is lost and dreams destroyed.  

They tell me, “Wait, your time will come,”  

But silence sings a different hum.  

Loveless, I remain, unseen,  

A ghost within a faded dream.  

So here I stand, a fractured whole,  

Doubting love and doubting soul.  

If self-love’s real, then why the pain?  

It’s just a mask for hearts in vain. 

By Pratham Pagariya