Piles of pain, resting in vain.
In those lifeless sheets & those pages, if revealed,
Would crack the shell, and depict the hell,
Of one’s tale of
Shame, sorrow and distress.
Can it be possible, for the life to act,
The way it does, just to let one get,
The lessons of it, that are all set
In an ironical manner of resent.
Like the blue that falls
To cause destruction
Than to blossom the field of brain
And cease to accelerate it, to its new phase.
Those scribbles, the notes,
Those crushed diary scrolls,
have heard and rated,
The loudest screams, exonerated.
~ Himani Malhotra