A torn dream

 My weary soul- 

And sorrow-filled head

were terrorized from the smell,

the smell of burning flesh

and shattered love.

I see a door opening

slowly but steadily

Curiosity- it gets the better part of me

And I walk in

It was her pyre burning-

with a flame hot enough to carry

her soul;

her bargained soul.

And then I wake up

From my torn dream.

                                                 - Sruthi Nair

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