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Kashaa Swami

Abstract Tragedy

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Kashaa Swami

Abstract Tragedy

The Fall of Nostalgia

The Fall of Nostalgia

1 min
223


That dusky night in a faraway place,

And the break of dawn saw all that was traced,

The morning that followed brought smiles on her face,

Those beautiful memories of the cold embrace,


And all these thoughts reminded her how poor she was,

Breathing but not alive.


The creepers hanging on the wall,

Witnessed her love, big and small,


And all these thoughts reminded her how poor she was,

Breathing but not alive.


She was the book full of love and life,

He was her all, the water,

And as she felt it flow over her,

She realised, he came to predefy,

And leave her in tatters.


And all these thoughts reminded her how poor she was,

Breathing but not alive.


“Your hand over me is my hand,

And when you close your eyes, I fall asleep”,

She would often say,

And now her only question is, “How could you play?”


And all these thoughts reminded her how poor she was,

Breathing but not alive.


Like a movie, it would all flash,

In front of her eyes and make her feel like trash,

Every hour, every minute reminded her,

How much pain and suffering had surrounded her,


And all these thoughts reminded her how poor she was,

Breathing but not alive.


And in the end,

She would tell herself,

“The moon is moving for its bend,

It's time to sleep and regain myself!”



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