Low grumpy conversations,
Gesticulating and pacing,
With their fingers growing long each passing minute,
Embracing my neck-
Squeezing and soothing.
I had known how to silence them,
Let them watch in awe as I practice a smile,
And a gait so blissful when I carry the wind on my shoulders.
Now I observe them with tight lips and a heart so torn that the sun rays go right through it,
Let them dance on the chandelier of hope laying somewhere in the room,
Gaze as they squeeze the very last ounce of light from my eyeballs.
What I know about living
is that pain is never just ours,
After a while we learn to dance to the music of our hearts again,
Wishing on porch lights like they were stars on cloudy nights.
But they wake me at night,
Howling again and again
that my heart has just skinned it knees...
A worse day is yet to come...
That maybe tomorrow...
is just an illusion.
So I toss forcefully closing my eyes,
Mumbling to the darkness that girdles me,
To the voices in my head...
To my soul hovering somewhere...
To these walls that have become friends...
To the spirits in here throwing stones
forcing me into an introvert's shell.
I had mastered the art of sealing lips and ignoring pain,
But the sea inside me is so full of bottles it no longer tides,
The messages taking on bipolar tendencies-
Some read "live"
Others " just how much water do you need to keep the pills down!"
So if tommorow really is an illusion
Let the world know I tried
But when I thought I had hit rock bottom
It hit back so hard
That the thread holding hope together snapped.
All rights reserved Shiru Wa Mum 2014
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