Could you begin to imagine
what it took to derive your composition
, the elements that bind
to create you
the complexity living inside you ,
all that one would have to go through
just to understand you .
But why do you give people the liberty of minimizing your worth ,
you allow them to witness
the beauty of your cosmos
even though they don't deserve to .

Ask yourself
do they love you
or do they love the power they have over you
because they know
that no matter how many times you leave
you'll always come back
desperate for their love ,
but don't you know
that even love
can't drown the thirst for power

If my pillow could speak
Would it ask where this liquid form of sadness escaped from
Would it ask where this consuming anger had been hiding for so long
Would it ask where this new found happiness learnt to dance
Maybe it would tell me where it stores the chaos teleporting from within me into its
Memory
Maybe it would tell me how it manages to absorb
Feelings and emotions so raw and rough
But still retain this pure softness
Still remain unchanged no matter how enraged
And deranged it may become
Because too often I've found myself cringing from the taste of my own
Thoughts
My heart hardening as I fail to absorb and contain the war of emotions residing within me
My soul becoming impatient at every spoken word that doesn't kiss mine
And too often have I seen cruelty change the composition of one who was once soft
Into one with rough words and eyes that are unable to release tears of healing and forgiving
Too often do I meet with my pillow
And take for granted what it is able to do
Because In life , circumstances can so easily change you

I should've put my ears to your chest , because I probably would've heard hissing Cobras instead of a heartbeat.