“Can you look at these deep torments all over?” , I asked…

“No, can’t see any”, everybody hollered.

I was not able to perceive why Is this so.

Then discerned,

Not all are seen with naked eyes.

Some are painted on the soul carrying the colours of fear and trauma just like mine.

Even if I cascade a beautiful smile,

I am dying a little more inside.

Even if my black eyes are gleaming brightly,

They are clenching waves of tears.

My soul is haunted by the bitter words I heard,

My soul is tormented by the bittersweet memories I lived.

My soul is captivated by the fetters of darkness,

My soul is the mauled by jumping in a ring of fire.

Every bruise wants to tell a story,

About every endless night filled with endless tears,

Maybe trembling in fear of not even being heard,

So vulnerable of getting lost in this world.

These bruises are leftover of a poisonous and dreadful sight.

My soul is now numb.

Distraughtly, I am looking for hope.

To escape this alley of scars.

I scream loudly but all in vain.

My heart is beating hard and slow.

I feel chocked and words are cracking.

My soul is weary and conceded it now,

This is the eternal burden it will bear.

                                                                                      ~ Aakanksha Sharma 

                                                                                           New Delhi, India