The Foul Agony

By Tisha Vyas

Reminiscing through all my furies

cursed by the freedom of dreams,

daylight vanishing in a glimpse of blink

nightmares occurring through the

paths of twilight,

the ache in my soul

could’ve said it all,

Mother I saw the look on your face

when you no longer needed me

when I no longer felt safe,

when all I’ve ever been

is the pieces of grief you have felt,

starving for your love and touch

while I decay underlying my bed,

being the jigsaw as thy being

the missing piece, would I ever

be complete?

And thou call it the foul agony,

As the grief remains evermore.

By Tisha Vyas