Pale white and dead

The lights are dim,
and I can only see,
the white paper swan you left me.

The weeks are dragging,
me on the floor.
I’m bruised all over,
and the scabs don’t heal.

The lights blind,
the noises deafen,
And I scream in my head,
when I walk back home.

I sprawl on the bed,
and I dim the lights,
I stare till I sleep,
at the paper swan that you left me.

Soon the walls will crumble
and the buildings will fall,
people will scream,
time will crawl.

In the shadow of the moon,
as smoke begins to rise,
the walls will be splattered,
with most of our dreams.

Through burnt ash,
then I suddenly see,
a white paper swan
floating towards me.

When the smoke clears,
and the birds begin to fly,
The dawn is cold,
But the sun will rise.

Finally you see me
beneath the sky.
We lie together,
the swan and I,
pale white and still yours, just crushed alive.

– Adithya Narayanan

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