Wounds

Approximately 17 years of super-slow healing and life just add something to it like some red Chilli powder on an open, bleeding cut. I have every beautiful thing with me today that a person of my age desires to have in order to live a comfortable life. Supportive parents, a set of awesome cousins, a motherly elder sister, enough finance to support my education, some really good friends and leisure to be lazy. No complaints, no blames except that my mind is not strong enough. There are waves of suddenness that would leave me either elated or simply morose but there are wounds that only hurt and there is a lot of work to do! I am still hesitant to pen down everything in a clear prose fashion, so I am masking it up in form of a poem. I am trying to be vulnerable but I don’t want to be so. This is hurting me, but don’t worry, I will overcome this too. 😁
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Here is a slice of my life with a few tears:
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There is a wound.

A thorn did not pick

Nor did the flaming tongs burn

But a dagger stabbed

A little heart;

Again and again

With fingers pointing

At the dullness of

A sickly fever

Of the then skinny me

On whom they shot bullets

Of unimaginable bully

Continuously

And I tried to choke my memory.

After ten years,

Waves of suicide surpassed me.

I am tired of smiling

And fulfilling wishes

For validation.

When I tried to explain

All I could hear was

That I talk shit

Cuz I ain’t dead.

There are parts they never understood.

My confidence lay shattered

But I mask it up well

And I completed my twelfth.

Was success validation?

Was it a circle of love?

In the battle of hearts,

I failed again.

Desperately proving myself

With a gutter of hollow-

I wanted them;

And I did not want them.

So, I closed my doors in loneliness-

A struggle to escape the shame.

I will roll up my emotions

In a ball and throw it away

To shun and lock all my gates

Only to sway away

From my divinity

Which I no longer possess.

A plan of God?

A chalk of words?

I know nothing of that sort.

I am just walking following where life goes,

I am smiling and let it be so.

I give myself to Divinity.

Who else will take me home?

Please don’t ask me to speak up clearly, I can’t face myself yet. In fact, I haven’t loved myself yet. I am working on myself, I will let things be imperfect & let the Divinity lead me to wherever I am destined. You are free to interpret the poem in whatever way you wish to, after all, a poem can be interpreted in various beautiful ways of understanding, experience or just mood. Isn’t it?

Thank you for reading through yet another ranting of mine. Sorry😜. This was hurting me too much, so I have somehow gathered some courage to just type it here.

I wish you all receive beautiful, compassionate and warm love because it is the only medicine we all need.❤