Once when I was young I emerged from.the shell of sunrise into the decadent monsoon as a gush of consciousness awoke my natal slumber I wore the scars of my mother as she wore the skin of heaven
I dipped my sorrow in ink as I embraced the skin of poetry To get rid of my demons My mind filled with iniquitous thoughts brimming with severe cacophonic cries in my inhibitous orchestra
But I learnt to live in my adversities collecting words from.the pieces of her graveyard, but her last letters still troubled my sanity, I draped skies of poetries with metaphors of nuance as I said goodbye to her fallen existence
I basked in the pallette of new thoughts synergising my imaginations as lost hope touched me in an evanescent dream and I started to shed the leaves of poetry
My mother's divine eyes twinkled as my feet waltzed in triumph I dragged wisdom out of obscurity as the rising sun flew me to metaphoric heaven
Once when I was young, I grew sunflowers on my neck and dragged sunset above my collar bones, to levitate peace in my orchard where chaos laid barefoot on white pebbles and black stones.
I saw more light raising in bottle of wine and howls etched upon grass blades, I've succumbed thousands of screams in my head but silence walked out of my throat each time truth negotiated.
When I was young, I labelled heartbreaks as poetries and scars as belligerent hope, but as creases endowed my skin I felt life is more about survival and existence, like blooming dahlias, which cry and shout yet smile till in fences it is choked. ~Purva
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