Handcuffs , blood

Red siren running inside my gate 

Bullets, screams

Rolling black tears , smoked up hate

Poison , pain

Tumbled down walls , echoed with sobs 

Torture , insane 

Shattered memory , beside my cold corpse

Today , they say it’s a tragic headline

Tomorrow, the tragedy’s going to fade in time


Failures , fears 

Crooked up smile , stabbed down hope 

Strength , breakdown 

Gallows set high, tied up rope

Skin , stitches 

Lend me breaths , I want to live

Death , silence 

Hold on tight , I’m losing grip 

Revealing is hard , concealing was harder 

This is not a suicide but a planned murder .

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Vinita Upadhyay
I am a weaver who weaves dreams into poetry.

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