DEATHBED

In the essence of my childhood, from those playful little eyes,

I often witnessed tragic endings filled with demise.

At the end of the day I'd tell my diary,

That I would refuse to walk on a path of briery.

I would lead my life and I would make my own rules,

I would curate my own diamonds and conjure my own jewels.

I'd fight the world with passion in my eyes,

And I'd stand up for the ones with muffled cries.

But as I grew,

And as time flew,

The tables turned,

And here I was with a lesson well learnt.

In this big, black universe where I reside,

Over my life a greater force than myself presides.

Maybe in my previous life I had angered the universe,

Because after that day my life was proving to be a curse.

I remember the sound of my shattering heart,

As pain accompanied that bloody shard.

That day I saw myself disintegrating,

My body seemed to be rapidly fading.

I slipped from over the floor,

And landed in a hell hole.

That day the devilish night was taken aback,

As it had never seen its brightest star and warrior break like that,

Moments passed and there I was,

Sitting over my broken dreams, despising all.

I held my childhood diary that day,

And began unveiling all my facade.

I told it about my childish misconceptions,

And how I was belittled and good for nothing.

Sooner or later I had to accept my fate,

It would do me no good if I accepted it late.

So here I am today,

Writing down this poem as I may,

A smile of agony creeps onto my face,

As I recall how wrongly I had painted my fate.

Most people are afraid of death,

But I call it an old friend.

To tell the truth I fantasize my last day,

It isn't a scenery of blue and grey.

I see myself in a white dress,

The white of a mother goddess.

The teak coffin shining under the clouds,

It's cuts and corners handcrafted with precision without a doubt.

Those open brown and grey hair of mine,

For wind to feel its companion one last time.

Surrounded with golden candles and red and white roses,

Gently a smile without any mirth grows.

As I get ready to bid farewell,

And find a place near God to dwell.

A teardrop makes its way across my skin,

And my life replays itself in my eyes like a 90's film.

My heart filled with regret at every moving picture,

The wound in my heart becoming thicker and richer.

If not this beautifully is written my end,

There is still nothing left in my fragments to mend.

But one thing is for sure, what my last words will be,

"A puppet in the hands of my lies, I became the thing I swore not to be."