By: Arushi Neravetla
My stories were far from perfect; I have been given an apartment.
Dearest father, my rent has been paid.
I was once beside my mother,
listening to her pleading to the glowing moonlight.
Forgive my insolence, the weariness holds me in.
Solitary, but walls full of silence.
Voices go in, papers come out.
The mirrors and my privacy have hopeless meanings,
Carnation, primroses, marigolds, chrysanthemums, and begonias,
I get on my own.
No one knows me, scattered leaflets are shredded.
Sweep, dust, rinse, and mop,
A cycle can’t be broken and my time doesn’t stop.
I was an outcast; my fingers cannot stop moving.
Murmurs to whispers, my leaflets took me as a prisoner.
Keep on writing, do not stop thinking.
Still bare, scars run deep,
Peeled skin, a hush lullaby, from a radio,
A bothersome to hear indeed.
Adele, you must live with grace and pray to the divine.
Seek his answer, you shall find, in the grassy meadows
and memories buried in stone.
Dearest father, you once abandoned me.
Leaving me and my mother,
Off to the brimming city-lights.
To dance with someone else.
If you're afraid of me, then don't read on.
I never asked you to stay, the broken butterfly.
Gasping for a final breath.
Is on the floor, next to my knees.
Goodbyes are told, welcomes are followed.
I am off to my next piece. Adele
yay! 😋