Mowing inner
Pathways, collecting
Scattered leaves of grief
Tremulous children these
Interrupted life
Clinging inconsolably

Given to internalisations
Inner landscape is like
An aftermath of war, strewn
With torn limbs, devastation
Of dashed hopes
Gutted desires

Gently I dislodge these
Pockets of grief, skeletal
Dreams, piling them high
Torching their funeral pyre
Recycling self by self,
Dying to live- living to die

Swept inner landscape
Lends a certain curious
Fleck to my eyes, unshaken
I sturdily line both with kohl
Reset facial expression, exhibit
New face, to face life



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