I thought my eyes would burn.
Its been a month and more
Since I stepped outside.
Forgot what it feels like
To have the sky overhead.
Its been days
Since the rays of the sun
Poured into my room.
What with untimely rains
Today, as my room lit up
With the yellow bright sun.
I stepped into it.
And looked outside my window.
I thought my eyes would burn.
Compel me to shut them.
But instead, I joyously stared
Like they have been craving
For that bright heat.
The yellow light.
The clear sky.
When I told my dad what I thought would happen to my eyes, he chuckled.
Loneliness comes from believing that people are deciding to not spend their time with you.
You get disappointed. You get hurt.
Quite irrational really.
How do you cure it?
You remove the expectation by not putting your social presence out there.
You remove the hope.
You remove the vanity.
So, you don't get hurt.
You don't get disappointed.
You end up being contented and alone but not lonely.
It has been very long
I haven't bled.
Well, not on the outside at least
I've been bleeding internally.
This hemorrhage inside me,
I've been trying to put it off for so long.
I must be in a shock now
That's why my fingers grow numb as I type.
So much has happened
So much has been lost
So much has changed
Friends have been lost
And it's not one of those pesky memes,
Where they talk about best friends becoming strangers.
No, am talkin about real loss.
The kind that keeps you up at night
The kind where you can't imagine or even believe sometimes
That you can never ever let them know
About what just reminded you of them
When you miss someone really
Whom you can never get back
(Not at least in this world)
Something like that
Can make you immensely grateful
For the ones you got now
So even when there's a dumb argument
The ego and pride holding you up
Can break completely
Cause you don't wanna lose them again
So when you snap unintentionally
At someone you care for
That can eat you up inside
It can make you hate yourself,
Hate your hormones,
Hate your condescending mind,
Hate your emotions.
Coming back to that pesky meme
I wrote about earlier
Even those friends who have become strangers now
That can be gnawing too
Because you realize
You could've done better
So **** much better
And so I've bled.
After so long
It feels weird
As I barely write something
That doesn't rhyme
But this isn't writing
It is bleeding.
I've no inspiration.
I feel no passion.
Someone else's happiness,
Brings out my sadness.
I feel like a sadist.
More like a narcissist.
Nothing drives me anymore.
Barely any Faith left within my core.
We stopped taking that route.
It was my favorite route.
The only one on my commute.
The oasis that turned the whole city mute.
With serene water on both sides of the roads
And trees with golden flowers as coats
They were only golden during spring.
Missed them this year to other things.
Will have to wait for another whole year.
Before I engulf in this route of beauty, my joy forever.
Motivated, I’ve always been.
When I was five years old and also when I turned eighteen
That Medicine is all I want to do and all I want to practice.
Anatomy of the human body is definitely not something I’d want to miss.
Years of hard work and turning into a night owl
Just for getting into a med school that I’m in now.
Still looking for my niche though a year of it has passed
Unable to work hard like I used to in the past.
Distractions creep around me, and probably has already engulfed me
Because I look for every opportunity to flee,
Or search for external motivation which I never need,
Or sit and brainstorm for this poetry.
I know I should be studying but I don’t.
When the consequences struck, I moan.
We are asked to combine and study Anatomy, Biochemistry and Physiology.
But are we given the time to do that? Not really!
I expected it to be so much fun.
But all we are being trained for is how to be number one.
Really depressing, but the training has to include competitiveness
Because we have to be our best
Or else our mistakes would **** innocents
Instead of saviors we would end up as villains.
The gravity of this my shallow mind has forgotten.
Has made me ignorant and repulsive to compassion.
Or why else on a holiday would I waste my time?
Instead of studying, write a self-obsessed rhyme?
— The End —