Burnt Paper, Burn Soul // Minahil Naghman
White roses surround him
In bouquets and on the pillars
White, as they mourn for their death
Dresses and shoes and suits
Grief in every atom of air
Sorrow in space enfolded
As tears they tumble down
Making their path below
Weeping in grief as the teardrops fall
Filling the air besieged
Painting it with its tang
Humming its tune of regret
They line the walls
In endless circles begin
And circle his eyes within
His face now losing
Sanity is caving in
And ending concord that once was
Cries muffled around
And apologies shower
But only stillness can be seen
Who do you think you are?
Saying you know my misery
The torment I have gone through
The sheer agony I have faced
Tell me, has your heart been broken
Has it been rubbed raw?
By the heartbreak that I bear
And the torture I have suffered
Has your heart bled
By a thousand paper cuts at once
Have you sunk in your own blood?
And then woken up to face it again
Have you faced anguish and agony?
Have you drunk the misery and distress?
Have you had to swim in your failures
Then start all over again
Tell me, do you also drown in the silence
Waiting for the cover to fall
Do you also crumple inside?
Like a burnt paper, a burnt soul