struggle

Image

they question me they tell me

things I don’t believe in

i try to fit in, lies on my lips, pain in my eyes

no one sees it

they don’t wanna know the answer to ‘are you okay’

yes i am

just for your benefit

head down, frown, alone and lonely in the crowdest of places

with the people I meet everyday

my friends? or forced company

long train rides are mildly enjoyable

these transient ghosts don’t know my history

not unless they have to if i make them

its easy to reflect alongside silent, unfamiliar companions

they, too will judge but only with their eyes

i am stronger by myself

and they go

out out out of my fragile ears and mind

solace could be sought online

technology might hide my fears

my crushed self-esteem

but still it is no use behind a mere wall of words and pictures

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One thought on “struggle

  1. I was warmth,
    basking and floating,
    weightless in the womb,
    until my appointment with this world
    came due.

    Warmth crashed to screeching pain,
    as my lungs
    tasted the cold air
    and ripped from my breast
    my displeasure at the pain.

    That history is my own,
    the pain my memory to bear,
    or to forget,
    or to imagine aptly
    as the price for entrance
    to life,
    to the role of father.

    I am now who I am,
    because I walked the pain,
    though I had no words to make them understand,
    no language to bring their minds to empathy
    with my screeching displeasure,
    ignorantly unaccepting
    of the pain that must be,
    the pain that sires wisdom.

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