Muse...

Those beats so clamored,
they pound in her head,
yet for once she stands,
devoid song.

They turn into rhythm
then twist brazenly away
so lyrically blessed
pristine.

And the damsel in distress
starts to digress
from the pain.
Addled and
trapped in its web
that twists
and forces her to sway

Swinging
with the world glued to the tips
of her fingers
glistening,
in the sun
for a second
till she broke
and damned it to shadows
like her being.

Rising and falling
in perfect points and arcs
tired yet continuing
cause this hate drum
never stops.

And slowly as her thoughts,
burn to haze
with the world too heavy to swing
she brushes it off
One last time
and collapses to the floor
cold granite
smooth and endless
like an ocean of black.

I guess this is what death feels like
with her body arched
and chest raised
as it drew all the hatred from her soul
sucked her in
and spat her out
to fall to the side
eyes wide open
staring.

Slain, in the sound of the wind
and all that surrounded
heaving,
gasping,
like
she was free
to suffocate.

One last time
Just one last time.


It’s all over now.

Breathe.




~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~Shraddha