Author: Piya Bhatia, Class XI C
ROSES
The rose gardens
Pretty as ever,
Are now moving towards the
Undesirable darkness.
The rose gardens
Don’t bloom anymore
The dew on the roses
Doesn’t shine no more.
As a prize, the thorns
The unwanted flaws
Are taking over
The undenied beauty
Of these roses.
The rose isn’t aware
It’s no longer wanted,
Or admired, but sure is
Looked upon.
Even though, it knows
it is meant to wilt,
Droop against the ground
It knows, the night
Is about to unleash
The roses are now,
Dead within.
THE UNSPOKEN TRUTH
Am I too old to hide under the bed?
I’m stuck in a storm,
But the storm’s inside my head.
All I see is lightning,
All I hear is thunder
Just one boom coming one after another.
I once was blind,
But now I see
The blindfold folds have unfolded from me
But try as I might, to close my eyes,
And shut them tight,
To go back to black
To not knowing, to trust
Because now that I know,
I know what I must do for you.
What you’ve made me be
And I’d give anything to wash it away
Scrub and scrub that damn spot out
But you can’t wash off a tattoo
Because now you see
I’m culpable too.
I gnash and gnarl and gnaw
Until I’m raw
My vocal cords vibrating with vicious vital truths,
That I need to speak,
And you need to hear.
My tongue undulating with
Undue burden of silence
But the sound chokes back
Into my throat.
A hard swollen lump, I’ve swallowed down
I’m sick of suffering in silence.
Today, I will stomp, and scream
And shout.
Until every word inside of me,
Is out.
Today, I want to come clean
Of the sins I didn’t mean.
Now I’m guilty
Oh dear diary,
Can’t you see?
