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Astha Sinha Poem
Now is the winter of our discontent,
For our sins, we shall repent.
Not a soul can escape this torment,
Slowly turning us all senescent.
The cold wind in the east thus blows,
Falling are the petals of that frosty rose.
Our hearts have come to froze,
As we try to cast our minds to our woes.
Harm is the reminiscence of summer,
When we doth celebrate midsommar.
Oh the sun! What has now become of her,
Hiding in shadows, no radiance from her.
The hail hath come to end one and all,
The white rain on the earth doth fall.
How does one remove this hovering pall?
When the limited will cause them to brawl.
Sinking below this sheet of white,
Numbing our body, this frostbite.
Will we ever again see a twilight,
Or will this just be an endless night?
Copyright © Astha Sinha | Year Posted 2026
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Details |
Astha Sinha Poem
I question myself
Every moment of every day
Am I worth anything?
Soul-crushing devotion
Does it exist for me?
Or am I just a piece of meat
To be fed upon by wild dogs?
To be torn apart
Until my carcass screams in agony
Disfigured and destitute—my soul
Pleads for a more rainbowed life
One that never existed
Ever for a girl like me
Oh how I wish I was shallow
Devoid of feeling
Numb to worldly wiles
But I feel the depths of the oceans
Of those between heaven and hell
Pandemonium and false paradise
Enveloped in my chest
Sinking in my despair
I long for a more kindred spirit
But are wilted flowers still fragrant
Once choked by senescence?
Loss of a childhood
And a sea of venom
Twenty two years gone gasping for air
But each year I sink a little further
Until all of me is extinct
I think I am being rescued
But they push me down a little more
They take a part of me
And leave me for dead
To drown with blood in my mouth
I am the writer of my own tombstone
One that lacks words
Speechless it will echo
But their deafness will ring louder
Drowning me once more
Carved into stone will be
The muted wailings of a woman harrowed
By teeth reckless and unforgiving
Copyright © Astha Sinha | Year Posted 2026
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