Written by Aayushi Shandilya
They say,
“I’m too inexperienced to write”
But they forget about the days
I was broken when people left,
And acted like I had a heart made of stone.
I felt the pain coursing through my veins Leaving my tears rolling down
On the nightstand.
What about the days
I masked my tears
With the brightest of smiles
Because there were some people that I fear
Who thought of me as weak
And a mere melodramatic over-reactor?
What about the days
When I swaddled myself
And hid in closet for so long
That my limbs refused to go back
To being what they were
And my eyes refused to see the light?
What about the days
When I wallowed alone in the nights
The moon and stars refused to be my light?
When fireflies disappeared in front of me
And the butterflies refused to cast their colorful spell on me.
I had nobody but myself to keep.
I wrote and wrote about those days
Until one day,
When I couldn’t anymore.
I acted stout and strong
Until one day
When I couldn’t anymore.
So, I cried,
I screamed,
I broke down in front of them
Until one day,
When I know I wouldn’t need to anymore.
