What follows is a poem of sorts that I wrote on the October 17th last year. Although I don’t claim any familiarity in the literary genre of English poetry, this was a humble attempt. The topic is death in its natural form which is romanticised as an ultimate end to all of the sufferings of the human condition. This is an unusual thing for me to write about as I am the kind of person who fears untimely death because of all the greedy goals I harbor in my mind. Still, on that day it seems I did write this for reasons which I don’t remember at all. I recently found this in my Google Keep and thought that I won’t be affected anymore by any sort of judgement from whoever reads this. So, here goes nothing:

Burning Ice (17/10/2023)

Have you ever been so cold?
You are walking down a sunny lane,
and a cold gust of wind penetrates you.
For you bones were always a myth,
You would have never known their existence.
You now know them very well.
You can feel something frozen to ice.

You are so desperate now,
You look for an escape.
You run, jump and stomp the ground,
But nothing calms you down.
You light your clothes on fire,
But you realize it just burns your skin.
You are more miserable than before.
You are to exist forever with burning skin,
You are to exist forever with frozen bones.

Then you see them burn the dead.
Now you know how much more to wait
till you are free from this tug of war,
till you are free from the haunting burns,
and till you are free from the frozen pain.
You will go down the same sunny lane,
In the land where there will be no you.

P.S.: Something to note about this is that by choice I divided the stanzas into 7-9-7 lines and every line contains the word “You”. This is probably just me trying to be act like I know how poetry works LOL. It’s always so fun to make fun of your past self, isn’t it?