By-Medha Arora
The world was sirens and fireworks and madness
And people and people and people
People that were bursts of red, orange, green and blue fire.
She was flame-retardant, an ashen grey.
She was an illusion of colours when she danced with the rainbows
But a yearning shone through her translucent eyes
Her soul wasn't entwined with the others
It was a lone wolf, howling through the night.
She floated above crowds, around them
Everywhere but in them.
Seeking, drifting, wandering,
Sinking in her quarantine.
She only revelled in her solitude
Sans faces that she passed through,
Sans loneliness that swallowed her.
Her world, was her and her shadow.
When she was dancing to her own rhythm,
Her soul was iridescent and her eyes were magical pearls,
She was an eruption of red and orange and green,
An explosion of glitter illuminating the stars.
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This poem has been published in the book 'The Last Flower Of Spring'. Buy the paperback copy on Amazon: https://tinyurl.com/y9sydnxn