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
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