The thing is some people always stay broken, they can't find any peace even after their end,
they are like poets who just have a thousand of words left unspoken.

They die early, they die from the inside, sometimes other people are just too busy to even notice the deadness inside them.

All their days they fight themselves to fit in the perfection of the world.

They don't ever get to feel the feeling of Home,
a place they lost long ago and try to find everyday.
They search and search of Home but somehow that place too doesn't feel like their own.

So they remain empty from inside, they are filled with hollowness all the time.

They cry under their sheets during the night.
They fight a war within them, that war is so bloody and filled with gore and tears.

They can't ever choose a side, they can't ever choose whether to be always broken or to let go and be a fake perfection.

Do you know I too am one of these people ?
That I am trying choose whether to say my words that are left unspoken or to always remain broken.
© Prajakta