Diamonds’ Trill

Free Verse

Photo by DIEGO SANCHEZ on Unsplash

under the haven of pretensions,
at the home of fallacy,
over the crest of lies,
inside the vessel of expectations,
breathes our dying pulse of light;

imbued with their colours,
forging till their satisfaction,
savouring their savours,
we seek worthiness in their
so-called worthy eyes;

pulling down the moon,
with ropes of hope,
to light up our faces -
the priceless diamonds,
standing on the century’s stage,
waiting for the hollow applause;

yet all these, just to distract,
with loud trills of high tags,
before we furtively sneak
into our midnight torments;
where every night is a rift
between you and me,
and we killing ourselves
with a belief to conceive you;

while the world is flooded,
there is a drought within;
a thirst to drown,
when we ought to swim;