And the skies, they tried to cheer her up; said,
'For every tear you shed, we'll shed a hundred.
And if your loud heartbeat is tearing you asunder,
Just close your eyes and lend a ear to the thunder.'

Chalance is the quiver in your vivacious voice as you tell them you're fine.
The trepid tear you battle as you proclaim that you don't care anymore.
The leering lump in your throat as you scream indifference from the rooftops.
The murky melancholy you mask with the widest of smiles,
The sinful scars that lurk beneath your flawless ensemble.
The six strategic seconds you pause before you tell the universe you're nonchalant
The word chalant is only as non-existent as your nonchalance.

At first she loved me with wondrous pride,
Night after night, a happy constant by her side.
Hand-written stories narrated solely to me,
For only I appreciated her special 'vocabulary'.

In a couple of years, she gouged out my right eye.
As she pulled out my left arm, I masked a sigh.
A laborious poker face; by her, I was smitten.
And unlike the others, at least I wasn't forgotten.

At the age of three, she made loneliness my mistress.
Stowed me away; locked me alone with my distress.
The darkness of the room surpassed by my own.
Yet my unrequited adoration set firmly in stone.

Twenty five years later, she found her old teddy bear.
'He was always my favourite. Treat him with care.'
'But mommy, he has no eyes or hands...' she said, sans guile.
In the blink of an eye, she spied a sad, crippled smile.

She's the twilight sea.
Waves inch close just to flee far
Slip right through your hands...

At first there were two human beings,
Now there's one human, hardly being...

In a bustling bus lingered a vacuous seat.
'She's impure,' they proclaimed; indiscreet.
The poor woman wept- shedding tear after tear.
'Don't sit next to her,' they warned with a sneer.

The wide-eyed girl looked on in curious worry,
As the fierce conductor tried to make the woman scurry.
The amused passengers laughed on encouragingly
As he tugged at her bag, her hand, even her dignity.

Spurned by the hospital; in society she had no place
For she had not the money to be referred to as a 'case'.
Her sole possessions- her disease and her fright.
The doctorless patient drowned in her ceaseless plight.

Melancholia stared deep into the girl's wide eyes.
They welled with desolation as she heard the cries.
Her dream of being a doctor would soon come true,
But oh doctorless patient, what will become of you?

'When I come of age, I shall soar astray,'
With wings, there could be no other way.
'I shall close my eyes; my wings spread,'
'To build my nest away from my home,' she said.

When in the stead of hands, wings would emerge
Her fantasy and reality would seamlessly merge.
Oh how she longed to see the world,
To never turn back; goodbyes unfurled.

When she finally did come of age,
She could hardly hold back tears of rage
With longing the new wings of others she spied,
As they flew far away she stared, wide eyed.

'I have come of age, and I must stay.'
Without wings, there could be no other way.
'I shall close my eyes; my hands spread,'
'To build my nest within my home,' she said.