To A Broken Person…

Somedays you think of life, think of what you are ,what everything around you  is ,

 and the six coffee mugs one after the other, 

the chair of  laziness that just doesn’t let you go, you are awake till middle of the nights and you pretend to be busy but you too know you aren’t this lazy, 

 and you are angry because they aren’t   accepting  you to be crazy,

when will you realise you are running away from nobody  but yourself, 

that fifteen hour playlist that is unending, 

look into your eyes from whom are you hiding ,what exactly are you  seeking, 

you know you should be grateful, but you are too broken to be grateful ,

 you are tired and frustrated and you don’t know why you randomly get irritated, 

so high then suddenly so low where are these mood swings leading to ,

 anxiety has polluted the heart, too bored to create another work of art, 

they call it symptoms of depression and recommend you medication but no medicine has ever healed a broken heart and then you say poetry works best for you,

  you dress so well and try your best to show that you are better than the rest and then streets of approval and judgments just gets open as you walk through hallways, there are eyes staring at you with amaze and an unexplainable expression, 

you are too confused  and irritated and you stare at your watch all day long for when you’ll be home and close the doors and cry letting out all your emotions,

 cut throat competition for words of appreciation,

 and everyday the hardest question to answer becomes how are you and you lied because according to them its not okay to be not okay,

  you never knew that you are becoming a better liar as days slip through your hands,

those hands and wrist full of cuts and burns whom are you giving pain to have you forgotten? 

 Love and fame and you are bored again and you expect everyday to be different from the other but you see its all the same as you have done and known already, 

waiting for that perfect partner you forgot love is not be found it is to be felt never but now,

 you hate the rythm stuck in your head waiting for you to burn another cigarette ,

and through smoke you sigh because they’ll label you weak if you cry, 

and you have understood chemistry well enough to know that alcohol is  a solution,  

look your heart is house of fears ,your dreams and excitement all got burried in your body which seems to be grave to a sassy you of yesterday ,

you still are the bravest person on earth until its night and truth unleashes, 

ask for life but not acceptence screams your heart,

you wish you could explain how broken you are at heart ,no you dont need words of sympathy because amazingly its all fake coz it seems like there exists no empathy,

 some nights after crying you experience an emotion that’s the true pleasure to your broken heart,

and you wake up and cycle repeats, its like an endless well you fell into and it gets darker and darker as it gets deeper and deeper,

if your feelings could be written into a book, you would bet it would be a bestseller, because you know people love to laugh at others sorrow or maybe it gives them peace to see reflection of their own, 

you sit with the blades on some nights and wonder if death was better than life and you make another cut which brings you in middle of death and life,and this is what you call your night life, 

and one fine morning that doesn’t come so often you wake up with determination and try to fix the problem, but then you realise that you have no idea what is exactly the problem,

emptiness, loneliness, depression or sadness, you have googled a zillion times to come out of it and  to know what’s the actual problem ,

you are tired of guessing -meditation, books,  diet, friends or yoga what might be the solution? 

it seems you are sinking into a deep blue sea even when you know how to swim, you are still sinking , you are breathless and restless and still in silence, and you sink and you sink and you wait for the moment you’ll take your last breath,

and when someone says you aren’t sad and questions your broken state, you could debate like the highest of lawyers to protect that what causes you suffering,   but silence is your answer, 

overwork is your escape and often it prevents you from making those selfhate mistakes,

its like a phase and you know it will pass,

but you wonder where those dreams to run to the moon flew away, to be that buisness tycoon disappeard,

you wish you could tell your story so you write some poetry but as you write your tears drip and fall on paper and its all messed up and wet and you have some pieces of art under your bed, and under those ashtrays and many other places but they are never read,

it seems you have fallen and gotten up and tried too many times, and somedays I wonder how can a person be as brave as you are and you survive through everyday,

so until these dark clouds pass as you know they will, countinue with courage and that nerve of steel, and you know that  someday sun will rise  and you know it will be as good as magic and it will happen coz they say magic happens to those who believe,

even if you know you have a very less hope to be saved remember death can never be a solution ,  keep guessing what is the solution and keep on trying but still smile sometimes until its all done,  because you know there’s a kind of beauty even in pain and pleasure could never serve you as well as pain ….