You created me, right?
A soul scattered,
Thrown aside.

Why—
Just answer this **** question—
Why plant the dream
When I could never be the sun?

Why stage the warmth
When light was never meant to dance?
Why is the faded dazzle there,
Carrying hope
Decorated by failed chance?

You hate me,
I know very well.
Then why
Do I still believe, still hold on,
While standing in the midst of hell?

And even now,
I still dare to dream,
Once again,
While waiting—
Maybe—for the final death beam.

I know.
But still, I believe.
How foolish of me—
But what else can I do?
All that's left is my faithful grief.

Yes,
angels, I still believe in you.
Because even today,
I am the same child
Playing in the fantasy castle you drew.

Divyanshi Solanki