Sometimes I look at that smiling girl in the picture,
and want to know
what made her so anxious of everything?
The pictures, which seem happy,
echo in my mind with the laughter of that girl,
whom I don't know
when I last saw happy.
Sometimes I want to ask her,
what made you hide your anxiety so much?
Why do you have to pretend
when you're not happy?
So that people will feel comfortable around you?
Whom do you want to comfort?
Those who will blame you at the end of the day?
Those who will abandon you
with this anxiety, calling you unstable
and making it worsen?
For whom are you holding back, girl?
It's you at the end of the day,
it's your life.
Be like a mirror—
show your flaws, your anxiety,
and let's see what stays
after all these storms within you!
YOU ARE READING
Tales Of Hopeless Romantics: Imperfect Poetic Journey Of Love And Life
Poetry"My love was as cruel as my nightmares, and it was as beautiful as my daydream, which never dare to turn itself into reality, neither did it ever ended like a daydream, the agony kept hanging me like that of half hope, the hope kept hanging me like...
