Over a Blank Page

When the days grew longer

and the nights grew darker,

She sat beside the unlit candle,

to think and to question her gradual dismantle.

What meant world to her,

was lost somewhere.

Somewhere in the dark among the lights,

in the lights that shone so bright.

If it were anything else,

she would have coped with it.

But knowing it was the heart at stake,

she was losing her might, bit-by-bit, with her sane mind.

How this happened to her,

she knew not.

The life inside her would die,

she feared the most.

Why only she?

was the question she kept on pestering God with.

The same blank and straight face,

was the answer she was delivered with.

Wasn’t it she, years back,

who fought the dear and the humanity?

To hang on to pen and paper

and ditch the suits, the meetings, and the money.

Then how is it today

that the same pen and paper,

abandoned the poor girl

to let her quail, and cringe, and to shudder?

Those stories and poems

that made her who she had dreamt of,

are now the ones,

turning her into the wretchedness and awfulness she had only read of.

Is this what she deserved?

Is this what was meant to become of her?

Is this how she was to die?

Over a blank page and a quill laced with the black dye.

IF YOU ARE A FIRST-TIME VISITOR OF MY BLOG, DO REFER ‘First-Timers’. IT WOULD HELP YOU IN EXPLORING THE PLACE.

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