I ask myself repeatedly
Oblivious to the destination
This road leads to
I walk endlessly, thinking
This would lead me somewhere
Then I ask myself again
This is devastating
How I don’t know
It is like being granted a wish
And not knowing what to ask for, where to
I look ahead
Trying to decipher signs
I find none, am I that lost ?
I head along, not knowing where to!
Only when I write do I realise how long I have deprived myself of the pleasure. Everything is messed up as always is. And penting up emotions inside causes further distress. This all makes you feel so tired, useless and dependent. And shall I tell you what the ultimate helplessness is? Not being able to cry!
It all feels like I were a ship right in middle of some ocean and a hurricane strikes. A purposeful strike. Till you are shattered. As if it were a test of strength. An evaluation.
And sometimes you do break up. Not because of a storm, not because of being hit or tested. But because when you analyse the situation you find yourself all alone. Everyone ever categorised as dependable is nowhere near. And suddenly you realise no one is actually bothered about anyone but their own selves. You are supposed to fight your battles single handedly! Alone.
Everyday you get blamed, labelled, pointed at, backbited, … and so much more but you go on thinking that there still are some who fall on your side. Friends, Family. We tend to think they would never betray. But once you find the truth about those chosen few where do you go? When you know no one’s out there for you, whom do you turn to?
Relations are all farce…
At one time or the other everyone feels stressed. And on those times we choose to worry about what all can go wrong, what all is against our success, how by a single mistake everything can get ruined, blah blah blah.
And in those few moments we tend to loose all our hope and confidence in ourselves. Further efforts go waste as we do them thinking we are not worth.
What we forget is hope is that light which pierces darkness. Even if it be bleak, hope lends warmth to the soul and the courage to walk further.
Walking in a wrong direction is still better than staying still at a place with no progress at all.
There are better ways to cope than die
Gloom and sun equally pass by
Yet we think over the grief
Extending the period meant to be brief
Splitting black on canvas
Thinking it would help with stuff
And yet pain never ceases to be
Unless you will, nobody can help thee!