There's a different world in my mind.
Different from the one we live in.
And there live the fairies I read about
When I was hardly nine.
I go there only at 3 AM.
The time, when I would be tired
Of thinking about a trillion things.
The time when it's only me, who's awake. Left
When the entire world would've already slept.
I borrow some colour from the rainbow there,
And decorate my scars.
There's a recorder in a corner,
In which, the fairies have preserved the lullabies that my granny used to sing. I turn it on, and slowly,
The cacophony of my thoughts become fainter and finally vanish.
The void that I had been surviving with, gets filled with its...