That sight of the scars
Painting her young wrists
Shook me with with disbelief
Yet overtook me with jealousy

I'd never be able to express pain
Like she did in her poetry

The crispest of papers
The finest of inks would falter
In front of that beautiful, mangled mess
Her smudged, blood-tinged words would author

I never
heard you
    *Sing

Seeing you so persistently vying
For that one perfect selfie
While I ruined the picture everytime,
Conveniently, secretly enjoying
That feeling of your pudgy cheeks
Pressed into mine!

It's when you understand that-

                    Everyone has a battle to fight
                    Everyone has a demon to ****,
                    A regret they pray disappeared,
                    An unanswered "what if?..."
                    A larger than life aspiration
                    An urge for a simpler life
                    (both at the same time),
                    Everyone sees in themselves
                    A flaw they spend all their might to hide,
                    Everyone has an ache untreated,
                    Insecurities kept discreetly in a shell.
                    Everyone has a Story to tell-

Do you begin to realise that
Probably all of humanity
Is just the many versions of
One inifinitely re-written story.

How
many
people
Am I?!

Broken shards of a broken heart-
Each piece composes a different line,
Then from the crevices bleeds out your poetry.
And then you ask me why it doesn't rhyme.

:)

Numbness I await
While your words reverberate
Through and through my soul.