“Upsurge of grief permeated my veins,
Dolor-thicken’d blood weighed down my brow,
Tears warm’d rims of my icy lids, all hidden in a frown.
It was a defeated dusk in December.
The feeling of anguish overwhelmed me
An urge to turn things upside-down, kick the ground,
My straggling feet laid pathway for a reluctant, irrefutable acceptance; assent of defeat in a dusk of December.
The cacophony, cheering, it grew on me like a laughter that shrieked, until all I heard was the noise of silence inside me;
A claustrophobic emptiness within me;
I had exerted my all, but I was left suffocated with the thoughts.
Look at the winner, veil a face of sportsmanship, the vain attempt to truly feel it; what remain is a mere feeling of despair.
The feeling of defeat cutting through your teeth,
Still standing numbly, faking a smile gently,
Hoping it would be just a dream but this, this is what is crowned defeat.”
Reported by Radhika Sethi