For the first time in 22 years
I get to move on my own terms.
I get to finally make a place my own.
Somewhere where I don't feel trapped,
trapped by those walls you build long ago.
In a room where I hid day and night
making it harder for us to connect.
So now I'm finally moving all on my own.
To be able to find a way to find myself.
To find who I am away from all of you
and with this space and time I am creating,
I hope to bring us all back together again.
Building the bridge that should have been built
A bridge that was forgotten and left unstarted.
And now we get to build what we once forgot.
here, time is a truck
with waxed wheels. but it
keeps pacing, keeps paving the path
to destruction; in dreams, I pluck
myself from its sheath, let it sweep
over me like a tide; on the
ground, I gather my garments,
as stones and seashells, slip
into their ethers, where eternity
waits. here, pyramids don’t converge
as they taper; they tunnel
like a lair that has lost its lucidity
& I’m wandering within their walls,
clueless, clouded—a captive child
eager to escape into enlightenment,
or another dream, where bliss befalls.
this is a paper-dream gobbling
reality—down to its
bone, bruised bare & bleeding.
I am stuck
in the place
I can relate to the most
this house doesn't get much bigger
A house made of screams and fear .
Hedge in by the high brick walls.
A place whose all loved one disappeared
And darkness masked fear crawl.
Here every room has a story
In which each is a character.
But time and world has taken his glory
And called it a sinister.
This ghost house is similar to many of us
Engulfed by our own darkness.
Stiff but eaten by the rust .
All these make feel starkness
As of this house , THE GHOST HOUSE
To the lost ones who are not yet lost
The walls around me,
Are the solo witnesses
Of everything that
I had been through,
My childhood, teen
My tantrums unseen!
They have witnessed
Them all in solitude!
Sometimes they whisper
Yet another time they pamper,
And as the sun dooms,
They put me to bed
An introvert thingy😅🤓
It took them months
To design and construct
The Boundary walls
A message of encouragement
Painted in bright colours
Scaled within minutes
The children wanted to play football
On the playground
Split pathways splayed on palms and face
Each line runs according to its own race
Deep, undefined or shifting aside
Inescapable writings on the walls
Nothing seems straightforward at all
On reviewing in hindsight
The circumstance of chance
How much space do we have to play
Was I supposed to be late
Another carrier of an attitudinal barrier
Loss of control often feels immeasurable
Despite conflicts of character
At times are we in charge of our own lives
(@PoeticTetra - instagram/twitter)