Oh, what a desolate and demeaning existence ,
My life has been diminished to!
Stuck in this dungeon of torment,
With my very own executioner
The place I once sought sanctuary
Desecrated to ruin
How my own heart has turned cruel and heavy
Under its hellfire armoury
Of how every day is a deadly game
A dance of swords.
Sent to scar and tear
The other down.
The never ending battle
The choice of whether you go insane underfoot
Or by the blood staining your hands
My only hope, my only salvation
Is that we are equals.
This is also a curse.
For even if battles are fought and won
The war will last
Forever more
I sing of the day our senses better
I pray for the day we see
That our fights have forged a glorious connection
The bonds of sibling rivalry
The poet Diya Sangeeth, is just twelve years old and studying in the 7th standard. She started writing at a much younger age and quite a few poems have been born out of her pen.
THE BREW 