Swans Fly But Never Unchained

By Anoushka Sinha

You're sticking needles on my back,

Pretending to not notice the bruises turning black.

You've come too far with my skin,

And you're still asking where to begin?

I've understood our memories aren't erasable.

You've made sure every side of you is irreplaceable.

With a marker in your hand,

You've marked me with your brand.

And people look, they search for that madness in me.

The one you impregnated me with, the special kind of depravity.

And now I've got no answer, the flair has extinguished with you,

"Will I ever recover?" With this fear of what you could do?

You did the best you could,

You committed your hand to every inch of my soul,

And, my reality is altered, "Can't you see?"

I can still feel you despite being alone.

You feel like a psychosis but with sugar coated consequences,

Like falling asleep, with a fleeting conscience.

Like being ripped apart limb to limb,

But staying intact because you love unbroken things.

Because you're the ripper.

You're my breaker.

Can't select the best conclusion,

For an ode to my mind wrecker.

But the ball is in my court,

Do I hold it? Yes, I do.

I'm giving myself the freedom,

To think without you.

And the remote isn't in your hands this time,

I hold the reins of my horses now.

That dragon you fought is my best friend,

And I'm the hero of my town.

And it's not like I can't once feel that itch on my throat,

The one you used to kiss and hold.

I've never tried to outrun you before,

Because the idea felt impossible.

But no more.

The bleeding stops now, the swan shall get her ending this time...

And if that ending means killing that innocent white bird?

I'll gladly take that dive.

Except.

While you're clapping in the audience, tears in your eyes,

Pretending to be the lover with your compassionate lies,

You can't see the bonds of earth, that for once won't be my death.

You'd think the act is over, cheering your swan's fading last breaths.

But that’s the catch.

It's not the end, the story has taken a final turn before the echo of the last clap.

Because the dying white swan couldn't possibly have been white, can't you remember?

Don’t you remember? Those bruises, your brand, your touch, your kiss,

Each of those, each of you that lived inside her...

Has turned the fearful white swan, a lethal shade of black.

Darker than your intentions,

Born for vengeance.

By Anoushka Sinha