By Prabhav Bhagat
On a silent night,
when the cold winds drive
away the ghosts of ancient
happy days and laughter
dies, and your
heart becomes a barren
plain where shadows
roam and feast on the
flesh of old forgotten
dreams
– Destiny
whispers, “Come,
how long will you lie
wasting away, a
rotting soul, with a
hundred
worm-infested wounds,
screaming
for the beauty it craves
but dares not behold?
Let the sunlight fall
upon your scars and
heal your broken bones,
your broken dreams like
songbirds with twisted necks,
will sing
with the fire of
your life or the
silence of your
death.
Your shadows find
the taste of
old forgotten dreams
too bittersweet to
let them lie
sleeping in their graves.
On the darkest night
they’ll close their hands
around your throat, and
make you swing and
sway, suspended
from the heavens
by a string of tears.
On a silent night,
your broken dreams will sing.”