Sadness is like whiskey
its bitter.
It burns me.
It leaves me wanting

It spirals down my insanity
coiling and coiling,
never reaching a happy

Sadness, melancholy,
I do it exceptionally well.
Like a stage mask
stuck to my face with
a glue gun,
I cannot detach myself
from the part I play.
I am the part.

I detach myself from
A sweet and sour
morbid feeling
of holding the knife
that cuts the cord from something

Like a spiral
into lunacy.

-Taru Gupta

This is what happens when you write at 2 am while thinking of Lady Lazarus by Sylvia Plath.

Thank you so much for reading, please like my poem, share, comment down your thoughts and follow my blog for more poetry.


Creative Commons License
Spirals by Taru Gupta is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.

2 thoughts on “Spirals

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