By Alankrita Pathak
“Crack”, I heard a sound, it’s a blare,
Maybe something broke,
‘Tis Cacophonous, into the distance I stare
Hope to locate the source, encounter only a baroque
Consistently foraging, seems like an eternity has gone by, behind the eight ball I am
Still nothing, but the caterwaul continues, deafening screech
Feels as if this is my truth now, there’s silence in this holler, yeah, caprices
Slept, had a dream so abhorrent that I woke
That’s when I realized, ‘Twas my soul that fell to pieces
Trying to fix it, Dazed and contemplating
Swedging, the fragments splinter more
Does soul shed blood, ain’t got no time for investigating
But that gore is now an eyesore
Scarlett, magenta, blue and grey, its colour is a mystery, Oblivious I am
Is it Achromatopsia or the truth really is bizarre, blinding treat
Ignored, Tried to fix the shards instead, but I drowned
Got deeper and deeper, and the soul was ashore
That’s when I realized, ‘Twas my passions that bore the wound
‘It’s all because of these sentiments, I soliloquize
Why don’t lysosomes exist for emotions?
One could just filter out the pain and rise
Because into that arena, no one would willingly delve, if suffering is sky
Then one’s a bird too terrified to fly
Why doesn’t this phase end, is this agony forever?
“Entr’acte it is”, there’s an answer
Are you still there, I inquire of my soul
“Yes I am, a little shattered, a lil weak right now, but not irreparable
And I of all things get stronger from injuries, so endure, emerge, be firm rather, if emotions
Break they themselves are the patcher,
One might not have Lysosomes but everyone’s got an inbuilt Dreamcatcher”.
