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Simply a weakened oak in midst of darkness,
Silent and sombre;
Simply a cumbrous chest wearing a hefty harness.
Decorated with carved cracks and sunken scars,
Dismal and deadening;
Designed by demons with hands made out of tar.
Looking through a tinted window-
Nightingales mock its pitiful position
Mockingbirds sing it nightly tunes
An only note of affection.
Jeering jewels scratching the wooden organs,
Frazzled in a fixed treasury,
Jealousy flaring from the diamond inside;
Here, they're broken
Ancient parchments stuck to the bottom
Inked letters creeping,
crawling,
Yearning to escape the choking chamber.
'Unlock this impenetrable armour,'
The feathered creatures sing;
Says the weeping willow of spring,
Lying to the sound of the water's murmur,
'Let memories trapped in those books and gemstones escape...'
Belonging to a villainous soul once,
Burdening and beaten;
Bedazzled ornaments in a trance.
Muffled in this box,
Jaded and frozen
In reality-
A mausoleum
Stay here!
Trapped and tattered;
Not a single clatter.
Alas!
Nightingales keep mocking
Mockingbirds continue their nightly tunes,
To the thoughts that remain eternally locked in.
-Grisha. S
YOU ARE READING
DROPS OF SCARLET
شِعرFeatured on @WattpadPoetry reading list 'Stygian Skies' "I dream as a soulless spirit where the only music I hear is the drops of scarlet" This poetry collection follows the tales of three women lost in the past and objects they surround themselves...
