Dear Little Sis, Somehow...

Dear little sis, change is coming.

I can see it in my eyes.
The colourful seeds of the rainforests they were;
The bleak parched of the deserts they are.
For the Sun shines, but there's no sunshine;
This drought makes love to the charades of darkness.

I can smell it in my blood.
The spicy whiff of the youth it was;
The unaromatic smog of maturity it is.
For the wound bleeds, but there's no gash;
This scar makes love to the pains of distortion.

I can taste it in my mouth.
The sweet lemonade of kindness it was;
The metallic fury of repulsion it is.
For the lips gobble, but there's no hunger;
This tongue makes love to the bitter of memories.

I can hear it in my brain.
The curious choir of songbirds it was;
The dead buzz of robots it is.
For the thoughts sing, but there's no melody;
This song makes love to the dead of graves.

I can feel it in my heart.
The delicate drape of abundance it was;
The torn rags of emptiness it is.
For the seamstress sews, but there's no thread;
This needle makes love to the fractures of time.

Dear little sis, change is coming,
And I can feel its power all around.
It dances to silently devour me,
For your haven, it hasn't yet found.

So don't be me, hasty turning the cards of age,
For somehow, you murder your innocence with cries.
Don't be me, neglecting the fiery child inside,
For somehow, when you grow up, your heart eventually dies.

~Swathya