What It Whispers.

sole.

Want to sing like a bird,

On a dark night to an audience other than my sorrows.

Want to shed tears like a broken woman,

On a shoulder other than my whitened pillow.

Want to feel the warmth of arms,

Of a physique other than my blankets and cold knuckles.

Want to dance in the rain like peacock that knows not distress,

On a place other than my lightened room where I know not glee.

Want to laugh my heads off,

On a joke that isn't told by my mind, to...my heart.

Want to lay my heart bare open,

To a hand other than my own.

Want to see them smiling,

On a moment other than my dream.

Want to wipe her tears,

On a ground other than my barren battlefield.

Want to tell him that I care,

On a day when I see him, not on the day when I crave to, but wouldn't ever see.

Want to heal them all,

With a strength that I wish to have, not the broken fragments that lay scattered.

Died and live to pray so hard,

With my forehead on the ground,

With my tears rolling down,

With a realization that I'm indeed alone,

With a vulnerability that I can't show none,

With a lesson that only He has taught,

With the silence that He showed me,

With peace that hundreds cry to have,

With cravings that I can't utter to none.

Because in the end,

Only He gets it.

Because in the end,

It is only me and Him.

To the shoulder I want to cry on,

To the man on whom I want to draw a smile on,

To the sister whose broken pieces pierce me,

To a mother whose smile lights up my world,

To a father whose strength baffles me,

There is something I'm looking for,

And although I have not a soul to hug,

To let the warmth fill my insides,

Although I have none to utter my love to,

I am at peace,

Because and only because,

I trust Him.

And He Loves me more than seventy mothers.

And I'm okay. Stranded, not broken, colored, sculpted,

I'm okay.