You're surrounded by the musings of their echos,

Snippets and snatches of conversations that cut through like a wound;

Some harsh words may shatter Your entire constitution,

Some condescensions are meant to bring You down from the horizons You kept Yourself afloat in.

And You know what's the Worst part?

They assume You're unaware of these Whispers they carry of You.

These scarring malignancies that they slowly inflict on You without Your knowledge.

You must feel entrapped in the haze of confusion,

Your eyes frantically in search of Light,

But Your ears beg for silence,

Silence and solitude from the scathing Murmurs.

Constantly You must be feeling an unquestionable burden,

With no idea of where and how it gravitates.

But it's there that's for sure!

Suffocating is the dark with no end,

Nerve wrecking is the commotion that plagues you incessantly,

Maddening isn't it?

But let me tell You something,

The Torture You're going through, it's not a compulsion.

Afterall, nobody asked You to suffer.

Indeed, they rather wish You eternal Misery.

Sanity must have asked You countless times but You always brushed it aside.

Stubbornly clinging to what You believe makes You whole.

But is it really doing that? Or tearing at the seams of Your soul,

Dilapidated and ragged is the once brilliant vivacity I knew.

Tainted and smothered of its grandeur.

I urge You, Let go of this Obsession before You become It...

True I am, and an error;
Orphaned son of promise.
Memory, a cracked mirror;
What's lost I'll never miss.
Yet I cower amid that furor-
Of dreams dancing to hubris.
I'm true, but also an error;
My life its flawed thesis.

I can't deal with this suspension
animated friction, frozen for the meantime
within the imaginary societal lines.
Sustenance within intimacy,
hangs in fragmented impermanence
as a reminder to us all
we are all victims of the human condition.

Even with memories etched within
aged smile lines, or experience
burned across cataract eyes, we cannot escape
no matter how we may try
the barrier concrete- our human mind.

In death, we struggle with our
own feeble understanding,
we lack the ability of total comprehending.

We enter this world,
soft, vulnerable- exposed
we exit this world,
in paper thin skin
stretched over fragile bones.

Regardless of the connections
we may form as we grow
we come as we go,
are born, and in likeness die,

alone.