I was never a sincere person to begin with ,
Maybe I pretended to be when I wasn't aware ,
My foolishness of being young
As if,
Later down the road of my fumbling fortune,
I saw God in my father,
Unshaken and rigid
Like a tall man
He was always there ,Hovering
Above my being ,
I could tell he was always angry
Because that's all that he showed in himself,
Maybe he didn't know any emotion
Or
Couldn't express what he felt ,
And that was that ,
That's all I remember and know
But on unfortunate days ,
I'd hear him laugh out of the blue
And
That felt like something has been lifted off my heart ,
You see ,when you live with an angry person
You may not know the reason
But it'll always feel like it's you,
Narrowed down to all his miseries,
Was you.
So I learnt the art of being silent ,
The loudest cry of all,
The kind of silence that hides behind immaturity,
Recklessness, numbness, giggles--
A monster so afraid
That it was afraid of itself.
All I wanted was to shrink down
Or maybe somehow break my bones
And be twice less of what I am,
And fit into the pocket of my father,
Like a badge of honour.
A shameless child I was ,
Always begging for attention
From people, from anyone else ,
But I just wanted to be loved ,
Seen , felt , awoken, held.
Sometimes I lay in bed ,
And think upon the possibilities of what I could've been
If things had gone a little better for me,
And not this fucked up
Mentally broken me,
And I cry
I let it out ,
It's worse than sweating ,
It's like gambling away the little of what I've left in me,
And I don't blame myself ,
Maybe I just want to escape
Even from myself
So I spill.
Am I worthless if I'm not who I am?
Mother ,what if it's all a lie
What if I'm not what I seem to be?
What if I've sculpted myself to be loved ,and now it's a Crisis,
Because who am I
If not all the things that make me needful.
Am I still lovable with no arms and bones?
Am I still pretty without a voice in my throat?
Am I still wanted if I'm not a whole?
Am I still seen if I'm not beautiful?
Am I still appreciated if I'm not who I am ?
For whom is this display for?
For whom is this performance for?
For whom I've prepared my whole life to be loved by?
For whom shall I surrender and call it goodnight?
For whom shall I crawl to when I'm broken ?
For whom shall I call when I'm not happy?
For whom
For whom
For whom
For whom
For whom
-Tamanna

© CosmicWriter