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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required A poetry describing the last days of a schizophreniac. Typewriters click and emotions burst, I don’t know which love portion will quench my thirst, In an empty packet on my night table, there is a strand of your hair, I’m sure that the front of your home is stacked with letters to nowhere. Day in Day out, I type my soul’s chants, Those hymns praising you and how your voice enchants. But only I hear those sweet sounds that are immersed in air, Your voice echoes through my heart, as I write letters to nowhere. The mirage of your face shines in the mirror beside me, The glimmer of your eyes illuminates everything that I see. The sun rays that scatter in this dusty air, aren’t as bright as your skin so fair, I reminisce about our days together, as I write these letters to nowhere. The memories I have made with you, in an invisible pile they are stacked, Why couldn’t we be together forever? What was it that I lacked? I wanted I hate you though I couldn’t dare - Do you realise, that I’m writing you these letters to nowhere? My mother was terrified of the way I behaved, Father couldn’t believe that it was you, who I craved, Though the drops of my fallen tears can be seen no more, I still write these letters to you, evermore. They said that you never existed here, They claimed that you were to be found nowhere, That you are a fragment of my mind, I’d never believe that! I’ve spent eons searching for where you could be at. They told me to take my pills so that I could forget you, As if that’s something I’d ever do. My eternal longing for you keeps me plague-bound, There are days when I wonder if you’ll ever be found. But your memories keep me locked here, I stare at the cracked ceiling sometimes, Thinking of what to write to you, in my letters to nowhere.
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