Convincing my favorite book to change its name

Triabilsing with the terror of the unknown,

Gasping at the bane of my existence, my soul set on a quest to discover a new home

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Syllables in their crafty demeanour imprinted their essence in my mind,

Tormented by the narcissism of false vows, the world of ink trapped between the pages,

Beheld the solace I longed to find.

Trodding in the woods, trudging amidst the gigantic winds,

The rhythmic flair of stellar narratives galloped in their wins.

In the eloquence of their beauty, I trailed in the beauty of midnight,

Escapism in its mirth embraced me as the light of my life lost its sight.

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The beauty of what could be surmounted my reader’s heart,

In the grandest passions of amour and the magnanimity of light,

The heavenly cupid struck its dart.

Affection in its purest form forged its presence in the books I read,

Tales of unconditional devotion and faith, of people who bled beauty in every breath.

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Yarns of souls who lived a thousand lives, some who were the radiance of the light,

And others who encapsulated the somberness of the midnight.

I yearned to be the warmth of the beauty that John Green wrote about in this book,

The ones who were called pretty and radiated the innocence of sunshine in the way they looked.

Innocence in its brevity knows the heaviness of its breath,

Alas, the purity of John Green’s love in my world marked its death.

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The world is no wish-granting factory, as Augustus truly said,

The art of pragmatism at its whims forged me to embosom the pain that needed to be felt.

I yearn for the narrative to change its name, as I falter on the memory of each scar,

For the pain that lies in me buried cannot be fathomed even by ‘the fault in our stars’

_Hridya