… And She Quits

A Prose To The Incomplete Lives

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Amidst the dark clouds of despair,
Looking at you, are a pair of gloomy eyes…
That’s part of a sullen face,
Tear-streaked… mushy patches… all across…

Dehydrated of vigor,
Is a body dreading in lifeless desert…
Non-existential in her world…

Looking at the stars,
Are her dead pale eyes…
So dead… the stars fail to shine in them…

Speaking to the Almighty,
Are her weak, chapped lips…
So weak…they fail to utter her prayers….

Oblivious of her own existence,
Memories of gruesomely stabbed dreams…
Leaving her redundant with anxiety and skepticism…

Having been through tortured happiness and hopes,
Making her Recoil at her own reflection…

She dismisses the next morning dawn…
She ceases to exist…
She quits…


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