Posted in Poetry

The Waterfall..

It was beautiful as the hill was tall

And from the top, a flowing waterfall

Engulfed with trees all green

To see the view from up there, I was keen.

But how do I reach there without any way;

When I can’t step out of the sticky clay?

Yet, leaving the hurdles aside I begin my climb

Only to find myself falling every time

I thought of giving up and my eyes opened

The waterfall still existed; not from the hill, but originated from the depth of the eyes

I tried reaching where it originated

But after many failed attempts, I eventually fainted

Slowly, very slowly, I began losing my breath

Unknowingly, I gifted myself the world of death.

-Shruti Fadte

capture

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