It’s finally getting colder,

The rain smells sweet and I feel older.

The months go by so quickly,

Yet I cannot remember how it tasted like on the tip of my tongue.

I feel lost.

Lost within the constellations of my thoughts

That are constantly dead and reborn

And collect wisdom through a channeled intelligence

And it feels almost foreign to my being.

Within my two calloused hands,

I hold them like they’re about to leave.

Just like I’ve always did,

Just like every other thing I’ve let go of

Have my teeth dug deep within.

There’s a window beside my bed

And it’s tainted and all blurry,

Shaded by pouring waters of sweet and sour melancholy.

Yet the sun still finds its way inside

And keeps me warm and makes me shine twice as bright.

And I feel inside,

A soul of a buried child

So bruised and fragile

And when the nights are cold and dry,

She worries about if I’m doing alright.

That little child lets out a familiar cry

One of my own.

It’s mine, It’s mine, It’s mine.

Although in an older body, 

I’m still that little child.

Oh! how I’m still that little child.

On days I cry, and I am weak inside

My eyes sparkle a little with her hopeful eyes

I hear her speak her old tales of time

She tells me of all my might

Whispers of hope, she caresses me 

It’s alright, it’s alright, it’s alright.

Today she still speaks inside

Mumbled and soft, yet loud and high

When I’m intermingled within,

Trapped and worried for I can’t decide

Between who I am and who I try.

As the numbers keep counting by

With every throb of my heart,

She catches my younger years 

And always tries, she always tries.

Oh God, she always tries.

And she always seeking for something new, 

Above and beyond the average view

And when the rain-drop falls tonight

I’ll be the one holding this time

And before she does, I’ll ask her if she’s alright.

Although today I’m worn and need more love

I’ll empty mine to fill her cup.

And stitch her wings all day and night

Because for this time I hope she flies,

Soaring high and crossing by.

And although gone, she will still be here

Layers, layers towering yet beneath still here

And as I peel myself, skin and all

I’ll lay my bones far from the rot

Because she is me and I am her.  

Yes, I’m carved into something new

But she deserves recognition too.

So, I’m writing this to her place

I did leave you long ago, but this time

A proper goodbye to the buried little child. 

By: Tayosha Gautam (Science, H2)