promise
and
poem
seemed like
something
threadbare and
dark secret
and beautiful
with narrowed
and actual pain.
The things you own
grow wild for some time
as if depressed and strange.
And then in the
unconscious end
of gnarly scars
you believe everything
happens for a reason
and that our lives are
more
than a ridiculous cascade of random chances
and death is
excruciatingly beautiful,
and we feel insignificant
in the grand scale of universe
like the ashes of long-dead stars.
A collection of atoms that
falls apart
in smallness.
Blacked Out from ‘Our Chemical Hearts’ by ‘Krystal Sutherland’
Winner of the First Prize
Harshita Malhotra
Arya College, Ludhiana
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