Of nails and hearts
published: (updated: )
by Harshvardhan J. Pandit
Like every single day I’ve lived before,
I saw the the world outside, terrified…
Paralysed, as if standing on a trap door,
With an aftertaste made up of cyanide.
Like glass scattered into broken shards,
My fear kept cutting into my soul…
Like the tumbling of a house of cards,
I felt this darkness swallow me whole.
With a raging swirling lava of hate inside,
I burnt my dreams into ashes grey…
I gave up before everything I had tried,
The world was just one big ashtray.
A puppet without any strings,
All purpose had left my life…
A bird without any wings,
Misery was just another rife.
I could not feel the autumn nor the spring,
I could not hear the birds nor the wind;
I had lusted riches, but couldn’t own a thing,
I had become a pauper dreaming to be the king.