"TO ME,FROM MYSELF"

By Ayush Kedia

woke up to the silence offered by my room,

the window offered a picture of rainy landscape,

my small hut shivered due to cold,

this time the summer offered snow,

there laid a small parchment signed under the name of mine,

I settled myself and read that parchment aloud,

"I often wondered was it always like this,

Did I fought as I was expected to?,

The blades I bought to the battle were rusted,

My armor and helmet were definitely busted,

Though none of that matters now,

We were long ago defeated,

The moment we were called for war,

I am all alone in this valley,

There is no one to hear my screams,

My dead comrades greet a visit in my dreams,

But only if I could speak my mind,

For once cry out loud and be appreciated,

Cause I am trying my best to move on,

This war, this distance kills me now,

If only I sent that letter you wrote so passionately,

Things might've been different,

My evenings wont be this cold, if she was here

She might've hated me, but the regret engulfs me now,

This teapot and that Irish song,

Always leads me to think of her,

I am probably dead in her charts,

She must be happy in her grand cottage,

But my letter haven't reached its address,

Its the last thing I have to say to myself,

you have fifteen clocks remaining by the time u receive this package",

signed by me, to you 10 years ago.

By Ayush Kedia