They can't reckon it's fever flush or frustration
They don't see my tears disguised in the December rain
They can't read the words engraved on my skin bulletin
They can't smell the ink brewed in blood they call their own
They lose the leftover parts of me in translation
I'm trying to be everything, but is everything enough?
My dreams are their doubts
My snowfall is their thunderstorm
My white hope is their shaded worry
My voice is just silent noise
My efforts, an invisible fight
They're trying to know me, but are they trying enough?
All I ask for is them to trust in a snail's pace
All they can offer me are invitations to rats' race
This house is a boxing ring, two iron fists in velvet gloves
Four familiar eyes filled with disbelief that hurts —
Wouldn't running away be better than a death by a thousand cuts?
YOU ARE READING
Jaan 'Nisaar
PoetryJaan 'Nisaar is a collection of all my poems; ranging through a spectrum of emotions of all kinds. The title is dedicated to the brightest star out there, Sushant Singh Rajput. He is energy, and energy never dies.
