My Fantasy

By Keya Gupta

Is it really just me

Who truly believes in what they see.

Saw a mountain talking to me, 

Now is it real or just my fantasy?

Can objects really talk to you too

Or would you call me naïve if they do.

Random words are always clogging my mind.

Is delirium tremens a term or something I designed?

Wish I could go back to my room, 

Where I hope don't find a broom 

Which tells me its deepest, darkest lie.

Just because it found solace in my eye.

Like me it drank too much too,

Blacked out and the sky turned back blue.

Now all it wants is to hug a tree;

When all its days left are three.

Saw myself in a hospital room

My parents beside me, who knew

Saw some fear and tears in their eyes.

Is it really time to say bye-bye?

By Keya Gupta