the ringing bell in the corridor,
and excited chatter on the floor;
another day, another afternoon
awaiting new adventures out the door.
the lively hum consuming me
as I stand beaming,
looking into those eyes that hold
the promise to set me free.
all of it disappears in mere blinks
cold marble stairs stare back at me
promising the comfort of cold pricks.
so I take it;
I take the hand of that broken promise
finding friendship in solitude in that cold corner.
i learnt how to adapt,
how to keep my "shine" entrapped.
it was all too soon when
everything I thought I had a grip on
escaped the palm of my hand,
leaving behind trails of runaway sand.
and to fill the void
I blended in, becoming one with the cold
too exhausted to keep my hold.
and so I started collecting scars
like empty pens, and wished for them like the stars.
reality was my nightmare
nightmares were my routine
"it'll pass, its just a phase for every teen"
empty promises, empty eyes,
empty stomach, wrapped in demise;
oh how I wish it was just a phase,
so I could find the light back in my gaze.
oh how I wish for you to be right,
so I could finally win this impoverishing fight.
oh how I wish for myself to run back home,
with a displaced yet familiar empty lunch box,
awaiting the next adventure unknown.
YOU ARE READING
Feels Like You
PoetryI write stuff when I feel. And the purpose of exposing myself this way, anonymously, is to connect with people on a deeper level of understanding. Reach out to me if you need a listening buddy, or any other therapeutic support (includes being delu...
