By Shonil Gramopadhye
Words seem so bleak against action,
The same words that fuel your distraction,
Painting a world in colors divine,
The same world I thought was only mine.
Believing her whispers were true and rare,
The same belief scattered thin in the air,
Her promises crumble, a ghost of their hue,
The same lies she gifted to more than a few.
Scars deepen as colors dry,
The same scars that bleed when I cry,
A canvas torn by her deception,
Yet I’m the one damned for my reaction.
By Shonil Gramopadhye
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