In the depths of my poetry

I breathe in the sauntering air that collapses my being,

I breathe through the crevices of my existence unseen.

Uncertainty in its yonder strikes in bolt on the scars that nobody sees,

Redemption that loves, redemption that is free, find me in the depths of my poetry.

Tales of lust ridden in smeared touches that belie,

Entreated with envy, the visions of victory lie.

To be or not to be in a question that yet lies,

For I yearn for a world where fond passion never dies.

Enclasped in the cage of the deemed duty,

Bounded in her vows, she forgot she was a thing of beauty.

In a realm we live, where amour in its truth fails to stand tall,

She, tired of her existence, submerges herself into the beauty that her dreams enthrall.

Chaos in its uproar hails in its darkness that writhes the pain of thee,

In surrender to the eternal stream, I find the precipice of me.

Desolation in its entirety plagues the shuddered ounces of hope that hold its breath,

Alas the warmth of my soul that once echoed in gallant strides, now mourns its death.

-Hridya