Disha Shree

February 3, 2007- India
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Detested Catastrophe

The sorrowful casket that consumed her,
Was illuminated by the trail of light behind,
The glistening halo of her messed white hair raised over,
She suffered the grief of the darkest kind.

The soft silk danced among her legs,
Growing smoother each second,
Each thread resembled the perfection of her mother,
But she was finally at a dead end.

It all happened when she lost her world, her love,
It sneaked up on her quietly and embraced her,
Each memory played a song in her head,
Repeating itself for what seemed like forever.

She had the childish spirit that loved every soul and every being,
All was dissipated in a second, her pain curtaining her goodness,
The moment he left her, she accepted the reality,
And the grief rained on her, trapping her senses.

At first the 'she' thought she missed an integral piece of her heart,
But no more now, she sarcastically laughs,
And losing you, she found somebody else,
Better than you, she found herself.

And the 'she' who was drowned in grief,
The depressed soul was me,
As I slowly sink down, leaning against the wall, I say-
"You, you monster, were the cause of all the grief."
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