Your love tried to take the credit of my poetry. But unfortunately, my dear, it were your scars that compelled me to write.
I wonder if you look at yourself in the mirror and feel the same. Do you feel the way I feel? No, you don’t. You don’t have the scars to hide, or the marks to run away from.
I was never ever so pretty as much as you made me feel one day. Just like I was never ever this unfortunate as much as I felt this day.
You never ever even touched me. Yet, you left your marks. Now your scars lie all over my hands and legs, marks on my face, and bruises on my neck.
Do you have anything to regret? I hope you do. And I hope it’s the scars you are the most regretful of.
Roses are flawed.
Violets are blemished.
The people I loved and cared for,
Are the one that actually vanished.
© Khushi Suneja
Running like a wild mess, I looked behind my back. Monstrous men in black, chasing me. The wind being not so generous, blocking my way now and then. I turned once more and ran as fast as I could. I reminded myself of how I used to run away from situations, back in my childhood. It was of no use, though. I heard the noise of the bullet that went right past my arm and hit the building in front. I took a turn, yet again and continued to run. I reached the corner of the street and felt no way out.
Finding no way out, I started to run inside the building that laid at the corner. Started climbing up the stairs, heading for the roof. The tapping of their boots, still audible. I wondered if I could finally get caught, today. What if they never reach me, like those hundred times? Running wild, I crossed the steps with heaving breaths. Black tuxedos trying to get hold of me, grasp me, catch me. I swayed here and there, switching my lanes. Finally, those black ties thought of a strategy and surrounded me … 3 men in front, 5 behind. The leader took out his gun aiming at my eye, shouting what felt like a warning, most likely asking for surrender. Aha. Nice move, gunshot. I said to him. He loaded the bullet. I made my move.
Running past him, dodging the bullets I pushed myself through and went right into the glass window, falling down the building. Those tuxedos trying to find a way out. I, looked at my right injured arm and said to the blood flowing through that chaos, was I ; that whirlpool of mess…these black ties could never catch.
I fled as fast as I could.