There was once a little bird,
who built a cage around herself,
hoping to keep safe from the cruelty brewing outside.
Little did she know, however, that what keeps things out
also keeps things in.

Then one day,
she died.

Suffocated. By all the doubts and worries which were circling in the cage,
her story ended, before it had even reached the last page.

Unseen, unheard, invisible.
Sad, alone, miserable.
Too late I have realised - these are just words.
It is time I break my bounds,
step into shoes that fit,
Thank you to those my world who have lit.
No more scared or scarred,
ready for a new dawn, my positivity unbarred.

"When the going gets tough, the tough get going" they said.
Well that's not true, cause some left even before the going got tough, and took a different path from the thorn-filled one I limpingly led.

"Never look a gift horse in the mouth" they admonished.
This, was also a false tale. I only realised the mistake,
when I lay on the ground, reeling from its kick, alone and astonished.

Because, you see, as I was trying to explain to 'them' by shouting myself hoarse,
there is such a thing as a Trojan horse.

I'm getting tired of guessing who you may be,
craning my neck in every crowd, hoping it is you that I see,
so could you do me a favour - as soon as I count one, two, three,
come out of my dreams and into my view, when you're free?

Before, each time you looked at me, your face lit up with a smile.
Now, you can't seem to talk to me without breaking into a frown after a little while.

Before, you were ready to put the world at my feet to see me happy.
Now, the same you, keeps hurting my world again and again and you don't even realise that we're unhappy.

Before, we never ran out of things to talk about.
Now, it seems the only conversations that you like are the ones where we're silent and you shout.

Before, I used to think the world of you.
Now, the things I admire about you are so few.

After, when you realise my plight and want to your old self restore,
just cast your thoughts back to how you were before.

It was, after all, a book
but it had kept me on an unyielding hook.

Perhaps that is why, when you died Livvy,
I found myself crying out, my heart aching and hoping that you will be happy.

You don't stay out in the sun to cure sun burn,
You don't blast loud music to clear a head ache,
When you're ill, you don't eat anything out of turn.
And no, when you're sleepy, coffee is not what you take!

You know what to avoid when you're body's ill,
but then when it comes to matters of "heart",  your resistance is nil.
Why stay and give someone's undeserved power, a regular fill?

Every day we utter an array of words,
"Thank you", "Sorry", "You're Welcome" or "Be careful"
But how many of these words do we actually mean
in the way that people understand them?

"Thank you" for a thousand things.
"You're welcome" for a million things.
"Sorry" for a trillion things.
"Be careful" of everything.

The next time we utter these words to somebody,
let's specify what we mean and specially specify our love in them,
because this is what they have left,
when death knocks on our doors and gets away with theft.

Writing on paper is easy - fast and visible.
But paper tears, paper is thrown away.

Writing on the soil is easy - fast and visible.
But it can be erased, by a simple flick of the wrist.

Writing on water is hard, invisible and impossible.
Or so it seems.
To write on water, you must submerge something into it. A couple pebbles or sticks will be fit.

Live your life to the depths, never let it to brought down to be torn or erased. Submerge yourself in it, and it will always bring you to the top,