into her phenakistoscope

• b e y o n d b r o k e n •

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When you are awake ,
but can’t crawl up from bed ;
when your sleep breaks
early at dawn ,
but you force yourself to
press your eyes closed ;
when you are not paralyzed ,
but feel numb
in every one of your bones ;
when your stomach grumbles ,
but you can’t eat ;

when you are not crying ,
but not smiling
half a smile either ;
when you have forgotten
your true laughter ;
when you somehow manage
to curve an upside down frown
but wonder the next instant ,
“ am I looking weird right now ? ,
because I’ve not practised this
in a while ” ;

when you don’t feel that
stubborn ache
in your chest ,
but can’t again
seem to feel
mended there ;
when you have collected
so much inside ,
but can’t seem
to let it all flow down
from your blotched cheeks ;
when you are saying your prayers ,
but it all feels like an
ever dull exercise ;
when you can’t seem to
form the words -
“ Dear God ”,
even inside your mind ;
when you forget to
even ask yourself ,
“ Does God exist ? ”

when you feel utterly hesitant
to utter the four lettered , “ h e l p ” ;
when you try to force yourself
to care ,
but still it doesn’t work in any way ;
when you see someone in distress ,
right before your eyes ,
and understand their pain too ,
but can’t get yourself to say
a few sentences to
soothe their ache ;

when you hear people say ,
“ keep hope ” ,
and it sounds like a
terribly ridiculous joke ;

when your loved ones say ,
“ everything will be okay ”
and you can’t help but
twitch and form
a ruthless smirk
on your face ;

when you wish
you could go back
to the days when
you knew how to
and could form
salty water inside
your dreary eyes ;

when you want to want something again ,
but c a n’t ;

when the pouring rain seems to
be teasing you ,
laughing at you ,
saying with pride -
“ look at me how I can cry ”;

when your loved ones hating you
doesn’t even bother a single bit ;

when the songs that you once celebrated life’s happiness
and sadness to ,
doesn’t seem to reach
your hearing senses ,
no matter how high
you turn on the volume ;

when you want to have fear
in you for messing up again ,
but don’t care anyway ;

when you stop blaming
your mother for not being there
with you when you were
dying inside every single day ,
and had begged her
to just try and understand ,
when you no more hold her responsible and have forgiven
her and forgotten too ,
but can’t trust your own mother
with yourself anymore either ;

when you feel just
way too much broken
and powdered to dusts that
you can’t even attend to your scars ,
you can’t even run a finger down
your soaked cheeks ,
you can’t even trace
the outlines of the wounds ,
you can’t even drown
in your own tears ,
you can’t even feel your own -
your very own pain ,
you can’t even recognize and acknowledge your own agony ;

when even Satan feels way safer
to be with rather than
with the Almighty ,
when faith feels like the most despicable betraying word itself ,
when the truth you’ve ever known feels like the biggest lie
you’ve ever lived ,
when you feel relieved in darkness because that’s where
you can only breathe ,
when the treacherous light is what annoys you because it only gave you empty promises that were never kept ,
when the haunting loneliness is what feels more trustworthy
than your people’s presence ;

when you don’t even care
to bleed anymore ; 
when you don’t even pity yourself ,
when you are not even
kind enough to yourself ,
when love is the biggest hatable ,
most detestable thing ,
when you don’t exactly want to bother dying since living is
more or less the similar ;

when you feel lazy to even say the simple syllables  , ‘ I am b r o k e n ’ , that’s when beyond repair you are ;

it is too less ,
too not up to the mark ,
too ‘ not enough ’ ,
too unrevised ,
and too unedited ,
too raw and
too effortlessly and carelessly
jotted down ,
too much too less
because you can’t ,
just “ cannot ” seem to dive
into the deep blues of the
endless ocean inside you ,
no matter how hard and
how many times you force yourself to drown into it and swim across ;

when you say , ‘ cannot ’ ,
you don’t mean
‘ don’t want to ’ ,
you mean ,
‘ I tried too hard but just can not ’ ;

for once ,
writing seems too much too tough ,
for once ,
the art seems too less
to give it all a form ,
for once ,
it’s not being  just enough ;

when you struggle to hastily
scribble down all the
anger ,
pain ,
scars ,
regrets ,
frustration ,
depression ,
ache ,
hatred ,
and just get done with it all ,
but c a n’t find suitable enough
and enough words to do so  , 
and for once ,
words’ inexhaustible power seems to falter ,
and its strength seems too weak ,
too weak even to the unborn writer
in you .

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Do tap on the minuscule star beneath
if this girl has moved you
even a centimeter ^_^