The place where it melted into one big dilemma;
the place where it snowed to the feet;
where, there is no peace.
I found you playing with a cigarette and
dusking in loneliness;
you wore your inner ghosts in some liveliness
you were broken with every aspect yet beamed a different color
you were the place where Miles went to sleep.
We are sorry we could never pull you out
of your little labyrinth of suffering;
we wish we could forgive.
You were truly a storm where we all played drizzle
shoving the regrets in a hassle.
The fear of your words being true
the fear that suffering is universal,
the fear of fear itself.
We wish we could tell you we love you
just like your mother did.
We hope you are in a better place,
probably playing pranks in heaven,
along with Hazel’s Augustus.
We send you love.
And gratitude, to John Green.
- Aadya Agarwal
(B.Com Hons.)
(Edited by Bisni and Pallavi
Art curated by Ritika)
Comments