It is to you that I write,
On this dark, starry night,
Heart and soul heavy with memories,
Terrified to delve into pristine territories.
I remember you, slouching in front of the mirror,
And on your face, ran inky rivers,
Freeing your soul,
Of the treacherous storm, which was consuming you whole.
I remember how your hands used to clam with sweat,
Eyes whizzing left and right, searching for a threat,
You used to think, that no one else was doing the same,
Thus-forth, it was yourself you started to blame.
Trust and love, you gave to undeserving souls,
To friends with minds as dark as yours,
And as you rescued them from their menacing shadows,
You naively thought, that they too, would save you,
Oh darling, why couldn't you see,
That they were never going to pay the debt that was due?
Your mind had become the hangout cafe,
For all your demons;
Anger,
Hatred,
Fear,
Guilt,
To lurch around in; to stay.
I remember you trying,
Day and night to fight, and crying,
When all that your efforts had left,
Were wretched scars across your heart.
These passing years have rewarded me,
With increasing knowledge and wisdom,
With a few more lines I'd like to tell you,
Some things that'll set you free.
You were not damaged,
Nor were you average,
Your buzzing mind was special,
The body that you scorned upon was nothing less of a temple.
You were frightened of the scars,
That were laced around your spirit,
In the same fashion as the night is adorned by a million stars.
But now, here's the secret;
These scars are what helped,
To transform you into me,
To transform you into someone,
Who is as fierce as the rapturous sea.
