• Shreya Teresita

The Plan


The plan was to leave home

And roam the world beyond my window

To grow up quick, to find love

And to never settle down.


But look at me now

Gathering dust

Gathering mold on a stranger’s shelf A fancy puppet

With a big fake smile

And a key sticking out my back.


Here I am now

Growing moss

Growing old before an idiot box

My boughs stunted

My buds nipped

My roots chopped off from my ground.


The plan was to fly away

To see the world beyond Blake’s grain of sand

But the bullet hit me right in the chest

And now I lay in my grave

Waiting.

Working.

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