Like The Strings In His Hands

by Mihir Deshmukh   Jan 14, 2015


It was a stone,
that's all it ever was.
Deductive though,
it was just a stone.

Flowing with the river,
leaving trails as it passed.
But never could it leave one,
that would ever last.

And so as it trailed,
believing it never failed.
It stumbled upon to a mirror,
oh you can't imagine it's horror.

Elevated pulse and widened eyes,
shocked it was with this surprise.
Another naked stone just like him,
another naked stone,with perfect skin.

And it broke it into fragments,
shattered it just by the touch of it.
And that was the end of this affair,
Oh! this cruelty won't be fair.

But alas he was alone,
our deductive solitary stone.
Shrivelling like the strings in his hands,
no more trying to disrupt sand.

Shrivelling he was,
like the violin he played.
Somewhere wishing in his elevated pulse,
the illusion stayed.

But no more lamenting over it's loss,
just sad, what it cost.
Wished it stayed,the refection,
wished he never felt it, his affection.
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This poem may not make sense to many of the readers, to those who feel they've understood this one, feel free to p.m me it's meaning too.

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  • 2 years ago

    by La Reina De Corazones

    Shrivelling he was,
    like the violin he played.
    Somewhere wishing in his elevated pulse,
    the illusion stayed.
    ^
    Loved that stanza since I love the violin the emotions it can ignite is from tragic to stunning beauty that being said while I didn't understand it, it was weirdly nice to read.

  • 2 years ago

    by Purvi Gadia

    Sherlock Holmes????

    • 2 years ago

      by Mihir Deshmukh

      Yeah, I saw the scandal in Belgravia again, I'm just happy someone could understand it.
      Sorry, but I am not one of the millions of IIt aspirants, I am going to law, but then again there's a reason to it.