Under the pile of buried thoughts, Beneath the layers of denied griefs, There, I lie in the bottom. To facade the sense of impending doom, To pry and to endure, The unkind fights, The merciless battles, The uncanny realities, Of the days I have lived in, The curse of the days I’ve died because of, And the rest of unrecognised existences. Do I dare, To bereave the percolate of ideas in my head, To fit everything beneath the thick layer of my skin, And surrend the flare Of a thing/idea, called life? Or do I crack the layers And peep through the piles To cut off the vices, To (wrongly) thrive In traces and pieces? Whatever. Whenever. However. How I wish to alleviate my fight!
Sitting on the floor, Crying my eyes out, Hugging my knees close to my chest, Releasing long held hot breaths, With a shriek voice, Feeling the pain in my bones, Seeing the wreckage in my life, Embracing every bad feeling inside, Is my thing now!
When you see around, In this lost and broken world, Amongst the filth and wreckage, Some people manage, To be full of life- Energy and beauty. The sparkle in the eyes, The rhythm in their voice, The flush in their skin, It’s all a keen. Quite a talent, perhaps.
But most of us are- Suicide in a bottle. With sad souls, Crushed hearts, Traumatized memories. The bottle be our covers, Cover for death within us. All the negatives within, Never to be seen, Or broken. Just to confine them, Into our deepest closets. We only see them, Not others. Only hear them stomping on our hearts. Crushing them more, Traumatizing us further. Weighing us down ever!
Those of you who are not among 'some'of the people, you're not alone. Life is not always shiny. Admitting is not weakness. It is actually relieving. Try it. You're not the only broken soul!!
You said you will be there, You said you will listen, You promised not to judge, You agreed to keep my pace, You said you will understand- At least you would try. Try to pick up the fragments, Of my soul, Of my heart, Every little piece of me.
But now I’m burned out- Drained out of life, You’re not here. I told you not to say the words. I begged you not to tell me you’ll be there, And now here I’m, Sinking faster than ever- And you’re not here. Be careful of what you say, Be careful of what you promise, ‘Cause I no longer know, Why my heart bleed. I can’t tell if it’s just my pain, Or because of your words. All I’m saying is- Be careful of what you say! For your words are powerful. Your promises are hopeful. Until they’re broken, And become swords, To cut me in pieces!
Who can murder pain? Who can burn it into ashes? Is there anyone, anything- Powerful enough, To destroy pain? As if it never existed! As if it was never there! If so, here I’m- Standing with pain, In the middle of nowhere. You’re more than welcome, To come and kill it. Even if it means, Taking my soul and breath away! O come, the pain killer! You behold a superpower. Can’t wait to meet you, For once and forever!
I know how this sounds, Easier, simpler may be. But that’s all I want you to do. Just let me go. May be everyone is asking – To hold them tight, To grab their hands. But, unlike everyone- I want you to let me go!
They say, YOU are everywhere, There’s no place that YOU won’t be, There’s nothing that can hold YOU back, They say YOU can overcome every battle and war, They say YOU’RE never late. Isn’t this enough, then? My own silence is disturbing me, even. The one thing I loved most. Can silence make noise? Can silence be so disturbing you want to stop it? Can silence be so irritating? The one thing I cherished. Did YOU take that away from me? Did YOU have to do that too?
I want to scream, I want to yell and say- Where are YOU? Are YOU even listening? Are YOU even looking? But I can’t. All I can do is to scream, but silently. And believe me, that’s the worst. But the hope is- May be YOU would listen to that. May be YOU would hear to my silent screams. I hope YOU do!
They ask who I am? Where I came from? Believe me, I’ve asked that question- Millions of times by now. I don’t think I have the answer now either, But here’s something close I came up with. I am a HUMAN! A collection of bones in a sack, With few muscles on the bones, And fluids flowing through it! I am human! Full of flaws and faults. Imperfect in so many ways. Weak, very weak! Weakened by multiple wars. And I’m lost. I am so lost, I don’t even know where I stand. I am someone who started a journey- Called life! But got lost amidst the adventure.
So that’s who I’m. When I look in the mirror, When I see my own reflection, This is what I see. Someone who has lost everythin’ Full of regrets and baggage, Tears and wounds! Just a bag of bones, Trying to stand straight- In front of the mirror!
I want to cry! Until my face is soaked with my own tears, I want to cry my eyes out, Until the pain inside my heart vanishes, Or lessens. I just want to sit on the floor, And I want to feel my tears on my thighs, On my knees. I want to drown in my own sorrow. I want to let it out.
But I don’t know how to. I know I’m grieving, Not for someone else. I’m grieving for my own soul! I thought I lost it, But I think it’s dead. So, I want to cry. But I don’t know how to. It feels like my eyes are too dry, I can feel my sorrow building up in my heart. I just don’t know how to let it out.
Would you teach me to cry? I want my tears to fade away my pain. I want my tears to make me feel better. Just like they used to. Please teach me to cry, If you do that, I promise I owe you big time, I’ll be eternally grateful, Just for making me cry!
Dedicated to all of those who want to cry but unable to cry!
Everyone is hurting. Some are bleeding, Some are covered with wounds. Or bruised – deeply bruised. The rest are full of scars. May be a visible, an actual scar- Or a mental and emotional perhaps. The point – we all are hurting! I think that unites all of us- Our own brokenness! We all are broken- In our own way, In our own scale.
And there’s an assumption- Or fact, possibly. Talking about your problem, Not just talking actually, Pouring your heart out, Knowing the depth of your wound, Opening up the covered wounds, Make them bleed a little or so. Peeking beneath the wounds, Looking throughly the scars, Just to make sure if there are unhealed parts. That would actually fix the problem, they say. For the healing to come- Reopening the wound is the first step. It’s one of the many steps to cure our brokenness!
Here’s my argument though, Is there any other way? Any other way out to find closure- Without actually reopening the wound? Any way that doesn’t involve talkin’? Or without knowing the depth of the pain. A different approach- To deal with your bruises? Can’t we give it a name without goin through it? All over again! Now, I’m begging, More than arguing. Would you please find a way? For us not to go through that again? Can you just suck the pain out? I really hope you could!
Inspired by ;
"I want to talk about what happened without mentioning how much it hurt. There has to be a way. To care for the wounds without reopening them. To name the pain without inviting it back into me."
Unabridged Manuscripts 