I Still Exist!
-by Sonali Chanda
–Reading Time – 1 min Approx
Again there’s silence in my small town,
It’s my bruises I count, when
all the lights are off,
pathetic darkness seeks some beam, hollow eyes
search for the flames of hope,
I let my bruises bleed in my anguish, though
a streak of pleasure runs
through my veins, until
it thrives me in severe torment,
dabble my single cloth.
I cherish the carmine stuff, wrapped around my body, I feel its uncanny agony too, the day
I threw my delicate skin away from me, it’s not that I regretted, as I deliberately tried to get rid of confinement that please me with everything I have done with.
Now, I hold immense pleasure
with the silence, that spread
over my town, no one is there
to eye on my bruises, I’ve closed
all the possible doors from which
chaos may enter into my ruined home.
It’s not that I’ve been confined
to this state of mind, it’s not that
it doesn’t please me, though
you may confuse my pleasures
with some pathetic feelings,
I did weave the finest form
of cognitive blank verses in my solitude,
accompanied by my refreshing oozing, that too hibernates with me, once it was also got hurt like me, once I believed
that all anguished minds’ pains may be washed away by compassion , I was wrong enough,
my empathetic soul got severely damaged, I collected all my pieces that were scattered around, you may think that I got broken inside out, it was just a big tremor, but couldn’t able
to demolish me whole, with those collected pieces, I tried to draw some abstract images of my own different sketches, started to preserve my bruises so that whenever I need some colours to paint the sketches, they’d be the colours of my own!!
-by Sonali Chanda
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