~Dr. Sangita Swechcha~
Seeing him laugh
life would find a new meaning.
However, that laughter–
just was a cloak
to wrap his interminable agony,
and a masquerade
to appease himself of his melancholy.
I have seen him die–
not once or twice
but countless times.
Because–
this was a death
of his inner self
of his spirit and his soul.
In the name of living life
he perished every day.
And with a faded hope of recovery
he woke up again quavering.
Likewise
he succumbed to myriad deaths
at the brutal pangs of despair.
Probably he had forgotten
living his life.
(Source : Global Literature in Libraries Initiative (GLLI) website)
