They’ll bury you deep,
They may boil you up too.
Time will seem not to leap,
There will be nothing for you to look up to.
You’ll be crushed under all that pressure,
Squeezing under the mighty wings of death.
Certainly not a pleasure.
Each time, running out of breath
The endeavor is no doubt, painstaking
After all, a diamond in making.
-Nupur Dua
YOU ARE READING
Devoted to the demons inside
PoetryMy demons were scraping the hell out of me, haunting my skull like never before. They didn't permit me to live, they screamed even more when I wanted to die. Sadness was all over me, adorning my heart's scars painfully. And very soon, darkness would...
