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  • Writer's pictureChasingTheMoon DishashreeSwain

Empty Shells

The grief surges with each expelled breath,

Reaching higher peaks, never sufficiently soothed,

Tears spill from helpless eyes onto the newly growing grass,

But for her, it was as if the damp smell of trash,

Her heart kept breaking, her mind did crash,

Time stopped only for her, undid her fast.


It came in waves, drowning her hopelessly,

What could she do? Her air had vanished,

No hands held out to her, to grasp for dear life,

But she would rather stab her painful self with a knife,

Emptiness flooded her heart, numbness pounded her brain,

Salty tears flowed unchecked, reflecting her pain.


Like a ship straining to see some light,

She is desperate, she clutches at herself tight,

Unlike what I remember, her blue eyes are no longer bright,

For her, probably, there is no hope in sight,

Even on the sunniest of days, she weeps in the darkest of nights,

Her life is too painful to live, there's no light.





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