Screeches of my dying ink,
Scrape my unripened wounds,
Carve something obliterate,
Nostalgic and unfortunately vivid.
The scented breezy memories now brings hurricane,
The sweet songs of love became brittle,
The gazing into the oceans of your eyes now drowns me to gasps,
And those subtle touches of love now abhors me.
I etch in solitude,
My mistake turned crime,
I scribble in dark,
My purest emotions turned a hitch in throat,
I carve in agony,
My jubilant days now bereaved,
And I scrape in decimation,
My frolic turned gray.
With my molten flesh and scarlet blood,
I again, question
My worth, my fate, my karma.
What did I do to meet this fate?
What I didn’t that I am going through all this?
These are the questions,
I am not going to find answers to,
But these questions, would remain,
In the pages of my hidden diary.