๐Ÿ’”

-
Do you recall who you were before the trauma that led you take your own life?
Why couldn't you? Is a question I'll never get answered
Never in the sense that I never will encounter your soul, the same very one 
All I have is your ghost for the rest of my life
I can't reconcile
That I couldn't be the one who you could lean on
In your worst times
You knew you had only one way out
The untimely suddenness of you being gone
Is all I have
I have to sit with my incapacity for nights many more beyond the wee hours of three
Unanswered questions 
I hope to understand 
But it seems futile
Another mother mourns a child gone too soon
Another mentor sobs through sheets
A bad dream I refuse to close my eyes and once again see

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

New Quotes

-
For people who believe strongly in the illusiveness of life, to doubt would be more correct than to bear full conviction about anything at all. But then again that questions their primary belief in illusions. - Aditi A world without faith in a higher power or a god is a better world where we can be responsible for our own actions; where we can be kind to one another because we want to and because it is the right thing to do instead of being frightened into behaving by the threat of divine punishment. Many events may have defied your ability to explain, events that seem like miracles, but if you are convinced that you failed to understand them because you're still woefully ignorant about the universe and the learning will never stop, then, you cannot and will not believe that a deity altered the workings of nature. Don't ignore reality in order to comfort yourself, for once you do, you make it easy for others to deceive you. Understanding breeds empathy. We do not writ...
Read more

Kept / Wept / Slept

-
For a while now, I've been wearing house slippers that are way too big for me. Firsthand experiencing the dangers of seeking (and knowing) too much, and finding out, rudely, unceremoniously, curiosity can kill more than just the cat. While exciting to taste the fruity slurps of seemingly full-knowledge, the satisfying crunch of acknowledgement, like punching holes through a thick stack of warm copy paper, the thrill of cliff jumps can culminate into bum-first crashing into the deceptive deep. Nobody warns you. That the water is always shallower; swallowing life too fragile to keep. No one explains that the depth is a trick. That the more that you dig, the less it will stick. Hunger loud from the tum; buns left in the breadbasket: none. And thread count of those slightly expensive sheets? No reliable guarantee of sleep. Long story short, if worry is the thief of joy; self awareness is the enemy of miracles. And so the slippers go into that unopened shoe cupboard, unused, where their...
Read more

Book of Names

-
Angelo Desilva, thirty-nine years of age, from the modest little town of Palajoy, lived a very mediocre life. Not a single thing about him or his life was unique; he was one of the crowd. As a preteen, he always wanted to become a musician. Listening to all the great legends, he fuelled fantasies about becoming a great musician himself. Simple middle-aged Angelo worked fruitlessly as a music director. He was not popular as he wanted to be; he created cheesy jingles for TV ads. There was nothing outwardly characteristic about him; he was ordinary in the highest degree. Angelo was a voracious reader. Like in every creative oriented job, he found himself many a times being idle for lack of ideas. And so Angelo absorbed most of that time in reading. Reading transported him to a different world, a world of make-believe, where he could forget for a while his purposeless, insignificant and drab existence, and pretend to be part of a happier world. It so happened that one time, he had to leave...
Read more