A withered soul

A withered soul


They are a language to whose eloquence

He toots his horn

Think he is all alone in this world?


Nightmares are his eternal companions

Sorrow and he? Inseparable lovers

Pain and he make good synonyms

Fate grilled his lithe soul

And deemed him unworthy of its goodness.

His eyes, formerly vibrant

Now carry eternal hollowness

As he watches life shred his dreams into a million shackles

He sits stiff.

Over his aliveness

He holds no surety

But within,

he withered long ago


Maybe has been alternating between the two realms for too long now

To know the difference

Not finding a bearable middle point

He is punctured..

Diving into broken.



My name is Melodious. An economics student, foodie, a writer(writing gives life!), a sister, and a lover of life.

I love to dance in the rain and to sing in the bathroom.

Find me on: Web


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