Dead and beautiful

Those socks, they're free

of earthly bounding  and temporal greed

but they're dirty as can be

fallen not into ashes but yet they seem to be,

seem to be dead as no one knew it could be

for the dirt had been a long guest

and the floor its home.

Once all mighty and strong it had been

it could see the window with tears of dust and greed

of the rain that washed away the pain,

pain that no one else could see.

Those socks, poor socks they seem to be

taken off harshly and thrown off carelessly

by their own beloved

someone they looked up to be

for what hadn't they done, they'd done everything they could

they could hide her pain

and would hide her tears

for she trusted them and they never got her down.

They wish she got down now

got down from the high,

but it was too late

all because they couldn't hide it

couldn't keep it

inside .

It came out and it came out like an army

almost like it was ready for battle

and a battle it sure had been

for if it hadn't been for the socks

people would know, it seems.

It seems no one knew

that's why the socks were still dirty

and the windows cried yet with marks of tears

on its shiny smooth surface,

no one knew

no one cared

cared that she got on the chair

and jumped but

she never hit the ground

never to be seen again.

The socks can't hide her

nor can the mighty sleeves

for when only the blind can see the pain

the sighted get defeated, it feels.

It felt like years

years ago when she climbed up

and hung herself to sleep

but it had been just days

days till anyone had even bothered to see

the girl with the friendly socks

and the mighty sleeves.

So the socks lay dirty

dirty and unworn

unworn since days

before its master

decided finally to be happy.

- Nikki Gautam