TRAGIC Poem: WHEN DREAMS TURN TO STONE, by Ruchi Acharya

When dreams turn to stone,
the weight of slow revelation presses like iron chains,
dragging you into the marrow of loss,
where even your blood tastes of rust—
bitter, metallic, a hero blind to his own wounds.

You mourn yesterday like a ghost trapped in cracked mirrors,
splintering bones that were already broken.
A fractured heart wanders through hollow corridors,
seeking a home that time has long abandoned.

Hopeless hopes hang heavier
than the sighs of days, months, and years
collapsing like tired stars into the abyss.

You wish you had poured love
into hands that turned to dust,
left fingerprints on those now faded into silence.
Perhaps the only dream worth dreaming
is the one where the world still does not know your name—
and yet, you are still breathing.

The star, once the keeper of your whispered wishes,
flickers, wavers, pleads—
“I don’t want to die.”