An internal battlefield,
The options laid out,
Perfectly in front of me,
Right under my nose.
Choosing an option,
Is so hard.
Ripping myself apart,
Trying to decide,
What exactly to do,
How do I react?
Is it socially acceptable?
After all,
Society controls everything,
Depicts everything I do,
They control what I used to,
Someone I call myself.
Myself,
My own self,
It doesn't mean that anymore,
It's no longer us.
Our old friend,
Someone called awkwardness.
He restricts,
Every single movement you make,
When you're out in the public eye.
Awkwardness,
Prevents you from mistakes,
But,
Also prevents you from trying.
With trying comes mistakes,
Lessons learnt from mistakes.
Awkwardness,
Let me learn how to be me,
Give me the freedom I yearn for.
I drop to me knees,
Begging the higher power,
The relief the reign,
Of awkwardness.
Everyone's burning hatred towards him,
Fueled by our perfection,
Perfection of,
Being bounded by,
A twenty-six keyed board.
Each touch sends a letter,
Imprinted onto a small screen,
How eloquent we are.
Thousand word 'I love you' essay,
Flows out so freely,
What are vocal chords?
Our voice transcends,
Every other method,
Of communication,
Why are we not allowed to use it?
Resulting to the written form,
But the chords of our music,
From our voice,
Strikes the heartstrings of people,
At a larger magnitude.
A small tremble of the lips,
A few drops of salty water,
Leaking from bloodshot eyes,
When I say 'I love you',
Confined within a blue text bubble,
All which I couldn't see,
With the barriers of screens.
However,
I'm greeted,
By strong, warm arms,
Tears wetting my shirt,
The sweet scent of your perfume,
The dramatic trembling of your shoulders,
Your passionate love,
Chest to chest,
Heart to heart,
All because,
The my song,
Reached your heart.
