Dead and blank is her face.
Dull and empty are her days.
Missing her past, she begins to think.
Hours pass by, but her eyes don't blink.
Brutal assaults of life have made her numb.
To all the demons, she wants to succumb.
The liquor of memories she continues to drink.
Would it one day make her fall off the brink?
Feeble she has grown by lethal plight.
Does she still have the nerve to fight?
Garden of her hopes is now sterile.
Would all her struggles turn futile?
Trapped she is in a quagmire of fear.
To her aim, would she ever get near?
Like a loser, would she face a tragic end?
Or her torn life would she finally mend?
Amrit Versha
Dull and empty are her days.
Missing her past, she begins to think.
Hours pass by, but her eyes don't blink.
Brutal assaults of life have made her numb.
To all the demons, she wants to succumb.
Quivers her mind with the echoes of screams.
Bleeds her soul for all her shattered dreams.The liquor of memories she continues to drink.
Would it one day make her fall off the brink?
Feeble she has grown by lethal plight.
Does she still have the nerve to fight?
Garden of her hopes is now sterile.
Would all her struggles turn futile?
Trapped she is in a quagmire of fear.
To her aim, would she ever get near?
Like a loser, would she face a tragic end?
Or her torn life would she finally mend?
Amrit Versha
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