Tragedy.

Above her was earth and below sky.
Of broken stars and burnt ashes,
Daffodils and Lilacs 
Mountains and castles
She despised it all.
She wore the jumkas her dadi gave 
And plaited her hair with jasmine garland
Ah flowers, fragile flowers
It shall die soon, isn't it?
Maybe that's why she wore it,
At least for some time
It'll stay with her,
Be a part of her 
And soon like everyone wither away,
Because
What is beauty, if doesn't fade away? 
People,
The Most beautiful
Thus, so shall leave.
Happiness is temporary,
And what stays is grieve
Mortal smiles and immortal tears,
Love?
Such a disgust. 
Selflessly she hated.
Ink stained fingers and incomplete sentences
Paintings of beggers 
Poems of insane
And a play she had wrote for herself 
Of black and grey,
Smiling at her own self
She knew,
This was the most beautiful tragedy,
She was the most beautiful tragedy. 

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