This old thing — poetry, verse, rant, mish-mash — sitting cosily in my drafts, taking a lot of seat is now left out to roam.
As I am lying here in the dark. Waiting for sleep to drown me into that place of relief, where I am asleep.
I realise something. It’s not an epiphany since this is not new.
I can’t be moved. Moved from my place or my thoughts.
Nothing moves me. I feel life passing by , just passing by. Waving goodbyes and hellos , when I want it to slap me. Slap me awake.
Last year feels vaguely different to this moment . How is it possible, that much has happened yet you feel you’re in the same place. As if taken hostage by life.
I want to rebel, break, bleed anything. But then again blood doesn’t scare me. Life does.
For long I have felt there is much to be done. While time runs away, ticking day by day.
Something has to matter, so much that it chews me from inside to spit out all the rage, everything that makes me human. Something to spit out the purpose of my soul. So I cannot ignore it anymore. No option but to be self. Unconditionally, to everyone.
I wonder if that is possible.
Want the walls to break, eviscerate before me then I want it to settle to dust.
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