poetry writing

Prior bruises

All the bitter truth and the hidden past,

I don’t show those terrifying bruises too.

I miss my childhood, I miss that dream,

Where I was the alpha of every scene.

I wonder where I lost the old me,

Trying to escape from reality.

Every bit of my yore horrify me,

I’m drunk, I’m tortured,

Outspoken and free.

I swallow my past like it was meant to be.

They say you are fearless,

Elegant and mean

Trying to be all happy and sweet.

I wish they could figure out,

Those ashes are still waiting,

Things aren’t buried but burnt inside me.

Is it nice to be unacceptable?

When you wanna be like everybody else in your group.

Isn’t your past living viciously within you?

-Riya Shah

By Ray


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s