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By Alankrita Pathak

“Crack”, I heard a sound, it’s a blare,

Maybe something broke,

‘Tis Cacophonous, into the distance I stare

Hope to locate the source, encounter only a baroque

Consistently foraging, seems like an eternity has gone by, behind the eight ball I am

Still nothing, but the caterwaul continues, deafening screech

Feels as if this is my truth now, there’s silence in this holler, yeah, caprices

Slept, had a dream so abhorrent that I woke

That’s when I realized, ‘Twas my soul that fell to pieces

Trying to fix it, Dazed and contemplating

Swedging, the fragments splinter more

Does soul shed blood, ain’t got no time for investigating

But that gore is now an eyesore

Scarlett, magenta, blue and grey, its colour is a mystery, Oblivious I am

Is it Achromatopsia or the truth really is bizarre, blinding treat

Ignored, Tried to fix the shards instead, but I drowned

Got deeper and deeper, and the soul was ashore

That’s when I realized, ‘Twas my passions that bore the wound

‘It’s all because of these sentiments, I soliloquize

Why don’t lysosomes exist for emotions?

One could just filter out the pain and rise

Because into that arena, no one would willingly delve, if suffering is sky

Then one’s a bird too terrified to fly

Why doesn’t this phase end, is this agony forever?

“Entr’acte it is”, there’s an answer

Are you still there, I inquire of my soul

“Yes I am, a little shattered, a lil weak right now, but not irreparable

And I of all things get stronger from injuries, so endure, emerge, be firm rather, if emotions

Break they themselves are the patcher,

One might not have Lysosomes but everyone’s got an inbuilt Dreamcatcher”.

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