The desert sun blistering my feet,
At a treacherous path, I push myself to keep.
The sand granules melting to create pieces of glass,
Shards impaling my foot, hoping this were a farce.

Glistening sand, embodying the way melancholy is seen,
Romanticised and beautiful, reality stuck far between.
The sand is a shard, as you look with a discerning eye,
From afar the grains morph into gentle pebbles, I wonder why?

A mirage is what it is. From afar it’s a dream,
When walking on the ‘beach’ all you can do is scream.
Blood trickling and creating puncture wounds,
How does blood look like a louboutin? A surreal rune.

Perspective, is it? Or can it be proximity?
It’s just a story till you experience it, meeting it with brief sympathy.
The minute its yours, all the legacies come true,
It’s only real when you feel blue.

Proximity? Or is the problem just yours?
To understand, is it necessary to brave all wars.
The survivors are all liars,
As you use their ashes to warm yourself with new fires.

-sana bhatnagar