I don’t know why I’m writing this

There’s so much on my mind and I’m not able to write or speak to anyone about it… it’s so frustrating to not be able to pen it down. I don’t know what I’m going to write. I’m going to type it and press publish before thinking or reading it.

……………………………………………..

More often than not,

you’d see her smile…

But before you start to think she’s okay,

Wait a while.

………

Wait till she knows you’re gone,

wait till the doors are shut,

wait till the curtains are drawn.

Wait and let the night creep in…

……….

The chirpy  bubbly girl you’d known,

would strip her smile and sparkling eyes,

to bare her cold and ravaged soul,

loosening a storm of bottled cries.

She would rip the veils,

and break the chains,

and unleash in a flurry of tears,

the stabs of wounds, renewed with pain, 

the marks of madness, bared again, 

the broken dreams, maimed and slain, 

the breath, a treason, the blood, a bane…

………..

But you must only witness,

and retire to voiceless connaisance,

for her battle must be unknown, 

her misery be her own, 

her wounds must not be shown…

and her journey… must be lone. 

…………………………..

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