The light bulb blooms.
The petals of light, the tungsten
burning red and hot- invites, sings, thinks only
of the memory of wings.
The burning, the bodies and their count,
the trivial data, the remains of feeble lives
pile up only to be blown away by the night wind.
Far way, the plastic chairs rustle like grass,
as everyone leaves with their lips
stained and bleeding with illusions.
In the silence of the backyard,
I alone hear the wings drop like rain.
I look at my own charred and mauled self
and ridiculously, think of love, only of love.
I realize something is truly wrong
with this world that I’m caught in.
Published by Nayana Nair
I am Nayana Nair. I'm 28. Just a person who has tons of things to talk about....not much organized thoughts sadly.
I'm interested in all forms of storytelling (though I don't have the talent for it). So I like series, movies, novels, anime, and whatnot. I'm also really passionate about music, psychology, learning languages (I just dream big, too undisciplined to makes any actual progress) and literature. I am overall just a curious person who is interested in all kinds of things, as long as they suit my taste.
I always wanted to be a writer (and also a teacher)..But I don't think I have the skills required...this blog is just my attempt at becoming the writer I always wanted to be...Blogging for few years, I have realized I am more of a poet (although, I am not sure that I am good enough for that label)...I hope I realize more about myself through writing.
Thanks for dropping by!! Hope I didn't disappoint. :)
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