"This touching poem brings you into a peaceful yet fading solitude over a warm cup of coffee, where silence feels sharp, and the ghosts of the past softly speak through time, their tears becoming the rain that nurtures your life today.” 

Fractured Tales of Survival 

The Threads in my heart weaken day by day 
Worn out with the sort of games people play 
Each day, I sew together the strands of hope  
to ignite life back to my weakened soul. 

They say the broken become masters in mending 
considering the goodbyes I am sending.  
The rants inside my crumpled pages, 
Has gone yellow with ages,
Flipping through these pages of time, 

I sip my dark coffee.
That time I stood in a room of people 
I saw myself,  
slowing dissolving into mist,
and the silence piercing through my heart  
like an arrow made of needles. 

The noise and chaos, 
seemed like it's always going to be heard. 
I tried to find my solitude, and failed 
unspoken words of sheer disdain and pain, 
A picturesque of hope, family, and love  
all washed by the winds 

Shackled with rules, ideologies, and chains  
which only hinders our growth. 
We lived thinking freedom was in the gas chamber 
We died with hopes of meeting our family  
while we became specks of dust with time. 

As contempt flowed 
In veins akin 
Men of valour 
And pious demeanour 
A mere mask, 
For filth and cruelty 
Their final task is about to begin. 

We breathed with gases converging into our masks, 
Only to know that the canopy of white gas
Was the last that history will know of us, 
We are all fractured fairy tales in someone else’s story. 
 
From the ashes hear our plea, 
We are entities whose dreams were stolen from. 
We are all relics of Hitler’s war 
In Skeletal frames, with reddened eyes and tears, all dried up 
We weep day in and day out. 
 
For what was flesh and blood?
Is now dust and wind 
Our tears formed the Ocean 
With which you ripple along 
Our cries bring rain
With which you survive 
Remember us.
For we have died for you to live. 

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