It was 11:30 with straddling darkness. She sat beside the lantern living into it's overlooked shimmer. What would constant staring bring? She tried to doodle the blues with a rush to get over them. She started turning over the pages of her diary, smelling like a contagious past. It wasn't just a book with blank pages she paint but it is the star which peeps through the past. The gust of wind pierced as an unwanted guest, reverting her scars inside those pages. That breeze took away her last hope of light, the lantern was off. Was this the fate of her life? She cried in anguish and her hands shivered to bright it up again. Her mind was an empty pot, which need to be watered but the hole below never let it full. She stood up to gaze through the mirror even in this obscurity and ironically she could see somebody waving a hand of need. Plain mirrors don't form real image but she could see a life beyond this world. A caged bird inside groan to get out but the heavy chains of rusted iron pulls her again. A shadow lit up inside and broke those manacles, initiating reactions to burn the sun of hope, was that a miracle? She stood up still leaning upon the shadow endeavoring to be happy and strong. This was a scenery into the mirror world, how could she step in? Why am I so pitiful of my life,she exclaimed? May be the pages of her diary could explain. Closing her eyes she poured down her heart and to her surprise she couldn't accept any of her own verse. She read aloud her last message to her heart which says:
Dear heart, I tried enough to console, But at last everything failed What I'm upto, nothing is that clear You're just throbbing, mind is wandering That's all I can feel, I'm emotionless or lifeless Just get me a glimpse of it, I tried enough But failed at last My young self feels trapped, somewhere in the darkness Crying out aloud, "This is not you but the demon strolling" Does it became so heavy that I forgot ownself? Why am I even existing, this has became a quest. He left again leaving more devasted, How will I handle more of this intrigue? It's unbearable for my anguish.
Her hands shivered and grip slacked, within a moment she could see her past embracing the lantern's blaze. Without a second thought she surrendered her palm to the fire in a chance of saving the life breathing there. But it seemed late. Her tears watered the ash of her life may be a part of her soul, which she lost in her own stains.She lost it, a reason for her breathe, she lost it, a reason for her sweal. She layed with those ashes near her chest, holding them tightly in her fist, extreme silence prevailed. It was 3: her hand knocked the floor, wet from her tears, but still her fist tight. Silence pricked much,and again the same wind hustled to break it, to it's surprise.She wasn't asleep She was DEAD. ------------------------------------------------------------------------