To be Hanged till Death

To be Hanged till Death...

By Rajul Tiwari

The bed of roses, the cream of milk,
the walk on velvet, the drape of silk...
A life of dreams, cares and more,
as of some royalty from the folklore...

Pain is curtailed and thrown out of the window,
you sleep in cosy sunshine escaping the willow...
With every step fame flows,
somewhere deep, a wheel churns and game grows...

We are entertained with great shows,
it starts to feed on emotions it mows...
Oh! what has just creeped in all the beauty,
the 'more' seems 'so less', beware to compare the duty...

She doesn't know, but all she does,
was success or just a buzz...
She longed for more for soul,
but found here, there was no door for soul...

The tears appeared as glossed up eyes,
the fears became mysterious desparate ties...
It started devouring a soft bieng,
but nothing was evident on seeing...

No one to guide, what to do when reality struck,
no one to take her out from the deadly stuck...
Every moment she lived, she sinked,
there were several ties but nothing was linked...

Love made no sense, work was a remorse,
no comfort in words, she was slithering alone on the course...
She had lived enough to die,
for she realised what all things are but a lie...

So badly she wanted to be free,
the wood was already hollow which held her tree...
The sunshine was scorching her,
the flowers stung, venom torching her...

And time's stream rewinded that day for a second,
a second when she made loop for her pretty head...
Again no one was there in all that luxury,
she got dolled up for her visit to mortuary...

A few thoughts escaped and caught into a paper,
there was no story to tell, no script, no  chapter...
Just opened and closed, like a box of treasure,
Her Beauty couldn't even cry of pressure...
An act of cowardice or an act of bravery,
not known, but she was found hanged in her exquisite drapery...
What glittered to us was a fainting breath,
for she lived to be hanged till death...