Song of the Haloed Singer
Come with me, oh clandestine friend
Staring at a child, caretakers sharpen the edges of her fatigue.
Look at the wounds they keep running over—
I hear they are a source of mystique.
As they swarm around us, watch the fireflies
Eating away the spot where my youth lies
It must be forgotten but I let it linger
Lit up by the song of a haloed singer.
Fireflies love it when we reminisce
All our days of bliss.
When we carried around a burden as if it meant nothing
As if it weren't our elders who should've held it
While they showed us false prophets
Fireflies love when we sing of youth lost to Judas knives
And all the tragedies that become our lives.
Copyright © Mishca Mahajan | Year Posted 2024
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