Amma, I apologize—

Baba had let go, and I

Couldn’t go on. There, amidst

Despair and hope, soaked in the

Eerie air, laid the body I had killed,

Faceless in the dirt,

Gaunt figure swaying in the wind,

Her eyes were no longer obsidians,

Idly she laid, as if she was

Just sleeping; as if she had never been

Killed.

Lord’s wisps of cloud mirrored

My blood with parades of gunshots, till

No more tears were left to cry.

Our world shattered, like when we chose to

Pursue our destiny.

Quaint voices

Roared when I held her hand,

Still warm at that moment,

Trembling, burning from being too close to

Utopia. She laid there,

Veiled in splattered dreams, no longer

Waving our flags on our torn

Xebec, blinded by sirens in the melancholy fog.

You laid there, till I realized that all I buried were the

Zillions of dreams I had; that you were me, Amma.