For every lull, there is a storm;
every silver lining, a cloud.
Maybe it is cool to turn a proverb upside down.
Or maybe it is just to accept the other face in the mirror.
I could sit back and scrutinise this gash
Or I could lie down and look inside it.
Is it just a scratch with a few drops of crimson that makes me cringe?
Or is it how I could show you ripping the wound,
a whole pound of flesh, boiling inside?
What makes the lining fall off everytime?
What makes the serene seem so pathetically chaotic?
And chaos has no different meaning here. It is what it is. And it is not welcome.
It is a hundred faces screaming together. It is a hundred nails scratching the blackboard.
It is pain!
Life, that was me smiling at you a day back. And this is me mocking my own self a day later.
And you are calling me names too...
like that ugly kid in the park who hated my toys when I was a child.
Life, this is not called getting even.
Life, you are a vindictive monster.
Life, you should not be me!
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Nothing bright nothing Biprorshee.
1 comment:
"A moment of happiness I crave not, when pain has all but my soul bought." I can feel the pain in the words, excruciating pain.
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