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Apr 2017
Sometimes these whispers grow strong, almost to a blaring cacophony, of an endless discord between the heart and the mind, laying waste to my sanity that was once revered, so, so long ago.
And as the mind drifts over the edge, overlooking a bottomless chasm, there is little light that shines from within, battling what is left of a person that was whole.
But you watch from your safe confines, tucked away in your niche of pretentiousness, as I fall into a fathomless hole, a tut-tut for the 'poor soul', words that could mean less and for you, life goes on.
But what was lost was that what could be found, but you let it fall.
Β©Meenu Syriac
Meenu Syriac
Written by
Meenu Syriac  India
(India)   
262
   Abie Johnson and RAJ NANDY
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