Wednesday, May 1, 2019




Every day we are,
Walking towards death,
Towards the end of our days,
The day that we await.
Life is like a maze,
We don't foresee the end,
We keep going on,
Until one day we stop.
Do you not wish to know,
When your end is near,
Do you not wish to push,
The day that you fear.
Knowledge about this,
Is a great gift true,
But kills you till the day,
Making you fear your fate.
Not knowing hurts,
But knowing hurts more,
Hurts everyone around you,
Knowing when you'll be gone...


"Trust me", they said,
Huffed out a laugh,
I'm way past that,
I trust no one.
As I went back home,
Reminiscing things,
I thought back to the time,
I was innocent.
Smiling sweetly,
I gave way,
To being walked on,
Like I was a carpet.
People, unrepentant,
Gazed at my virtue,
Took it for granted,
And consumed me.
Ones I confided in,
Sold me out,
Left me bare,
To the unforgiving world.
Learn from my mistakes,
I did not,
Until again and again,
Trust bestowed broken.
I vowed to myself,
Not to show myself,
To everyone and all,
To anyone at all.
That was just the beginning,
Of my losing of faith,
In the whole of humanity,
Since then not restored.
Tears stopped on my cheeks,
Tears stopped in my eyes,
Tears didn't reach them,
They stopped in my soul.
Everyone breathed insults,
They dreamt of back-stabbing,
They're made of black smoke,
Coiling into their veins.
The earth once pure,
Now felt disgust,
At being home to such a species,
Heartless at their hearts.
I shook my head,
A smile creeping on my face,
Trust me they say,
But I don't even trust myself...


You're made up,
Of star dust,
The very same,
Angels are made of.
You're made up,
Of the strongest obsidian,
The one used to carve,
The sharpest of knives.
You're made up,
Of the ink,
Used to write,
The greatest of tales.
You're made up,
Of the same twinkle,
The twinkle he used,
Mozart to play.
You're made up,
Of bone and flesh,
The same that the greatest,
People are made of.
You're made up,
Of your passion,
Your thoughts and dreams,
Your pride and might.
You're made up,
Of the strongest of all,
You'll rise to glory,
And outshine the stars..


THRYAKSHA ASHOK GARLA, a seventeen-year-old, has been writing since she was a little kid. She has a blog and an Instagram account with about 150 poems posted till date. She touches upon themes such as feminism, self-reliance, love and mostly writes blues. Her poems have been published in two issues of the 'Sparks' magazine, and in poetry anthologies such as ‘Efflorescence' of Chennai Poets’ Circle , 'The current' and in the 'Setu e-magazine.' She won the first place in the poetry competition held by India Poetry Circle (2018) held in Odyssey. She's a voracious reader, a violinist, and dabbles in art.

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