Written by Writer Shweta Ranjane and edited by Editor G Brinda
A peep into the depths of my insatiable cravings; Stalling in the shadows—With the bows at the ready, A thunderous rage, That won't faze. Medication for my scars, An inferno testing my patience. An undeterred gaze, That can get me through any maze. The stillness in the dark, Adding to my spark. A whisper in the cold, Making the invincible mould. A bud on the verge of blooming. A phoenix which will rise anew. Dressed in black, Red adornment! Stitches and cuts set the ball rolling. It's finally time to rip the crust! Want to take a closer glance at what's going on inside?Satanic vibes, you mumble? How you regard me, will ascertain! Treat me as if I am valuable; And you will behold red roses. But if you forget how to tend to valuable things— You will infer how those roses turned red. There's a demon inside me. No, it's not evil. It's devouring to your treatment of me. It merely hopes I took care of myself. It urges me to prioritise myself over others. I should value myself, it implies. There is a demon inside me—Oozing venom! Ironically, it's my shadow—an entity stronger than myself—that cherishes me. An unfathomable concept of human delicacy! Something that unsettles me, But unleashes me.
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