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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





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