Shattered Soul

By Shreshtha Srivastava

It’s hurting – a wound with a cut so deep,

Draggers made of criticizing words.

Chocking the healing soul in me.

They pierce my core, like a heartless man cutting a beef.

My heart breaks like a petiole of an autumn leaf,

Leaving its parent tree.

Now, I am walking on a road of endless wounds,

Those which still need time to heal after a century.

Is this that burning fire that scares many?

To me these flames feel so cold,

I guess,

My soul is now lifeless, broken, and old.

By Shreshtha Srivastava