Consuming my soul is a flame
Till I am nothing but a burning flame.
While the hand that lit me has long since gone,
Milestones can be homeward
Kissing can be a bite
Laughing can be silence
And wrong can be right
Somewhere in the innumerous rituals that surrounded your death
and the selfish demands of the living
and in the midst of the abuse
and in the lack of light in your eyes and your perfunctory nods that reiterated your indifference again and again...
Think Positive they keep saying
and I try
Just when I'm thinking positive
Why did you die?