By Sloka Kadiyala
The pleasant, terrible and every other kind I miss,
The sound of rain
The groan of pain,
Even the buzzing of the flying.
It is a vague memory but it is there,
I don’t know how this, the others bear.
Everytime I run,jog or walk,
Never can I hear the gliding sounds,
But then I noticed, the faint silent beat,
Coming from me, right within my chest,
Arising from it like a little bird from its nest.
From then it accompanied me wherever i go,
Walking with me as I step,
Running with me as I step faster.
The only thing I feel and my best friend never left my side.
…. Until it did.
A man in a white jacket fixed me they said,
Gone was the beat I used to cherish,
The beat was me and I was gone.
If the beat left, then why can’t I Leave too?
By Sloka Kadiyala
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