Day is passing
Slowly through my finger tips,
I try so hard to tighten my grip,
eyes have gone blind,
I befriend my mind.
*seated next to a stranger in a bus-
hoping to hear from someone else that the day is meant for us*
Their words have turned me mute,
denigrating my decibel to a minimum,
cultivating a web for all the voices that were dispersed—
I still haven’t decided if silence is a blessing or a curse.
*Thing is no one told me that life is long, and that I have to continue the journey no matter how isolated I was.
No one told me how much I should participate in the creation of my existence, that I should perhaps keep going because no one will ever wait for me*
There is nobody
treading the grounds alongside
deserted people,
gambling with faith in such a beastly place,
perfumed with slavery and discrimination;
despair and racism,
rubbing off a scent of alienation,
even that becomes a consolation.
I shouldn’t make this place about me,
growing fangs and horns in solidarity,
show me a world where all this don't persist,
How shall I go on looking like this.
There is nobody
*My mind is a sanctuary,
They live and die in my memory,
Every single stranger is me.*
Where have I arrived today?
I try so hard to disappear from everyone, that I end up even more lost in my own destination.
How did it become this beautiful?
Dec 23, 2015
Dec 23, 2015 at 2:53 AM UTC
Day is passing
Slowly through my finger tips,
I try so hard to tighten my grip,
eyes have gone blind,
I befriend my mind.
*seated next to a stranger in a bus-
hoping to hear from someone else that the day is meant for us*
Their words have turned me mute,
denigrating my decibel to a minimum,
cultivating a web for all the voices that were dispersed—
I still haven’t decided if silence is a blessing or a curse.
*Thing is no one told me that life is long, and that I have to continue the journey no matter how isolated I was.
No one told me how much I should participate in the creation of my existence, that I should perhaps keep going because no one will ever wait for me*
There is nobody
treading the grounds alongside
deserted people,
gambling with faith in such a beastly place,
perfumed with slavery and discrimination;
despair and racism,
rubbing off a scent of alienation,
even that becomes a consolation.
I shouldn’t make this place about me,
growing fangs and horns in solidarity,
show me a world where all this don't persist,
How shall I go on looking like this.
There is nobody
*My mind is a sanctuary,
They live and die in my memory,
Every single stranger is me.*
Where have I arrived today?
I try so hard to disappear from everyone, that I end up even more lost in my own destination.
How did it become this beautiful?
