Tears flowing down,
taking the chemicals,
not the pain.
Is it the sign of weakness?
Is it the sign of being childish?
Is it the sign of being coward?
Is it the sign of anxiety?
Why cannot they,
see it?
Why cannot they,
see my fake smile?
Why do they believe
my non-existent lies?
Why do they not hear
my weeping soul?
When you are a kid,
they say,
don't cry at silly things.
When you are grown-up,
they say,
why are you crying like a kid?
Why do they try to bury it?
I stand here in
my own rain
where;
nobody stops me,
nobody consoles me,
nobody lectures me,
nobody cares me.
It's my
own little cave,
where;
tears are not scared of
hypocrite society.
Where,
tears are not
sign of weakness.
Where,
tears are
free flow of emotions.
Where,
tears are not hiding in smile.
Where,
tears are only
expression of pain.
Where,
my voice can weep
with my eyes too.
Heart feels
weightlessness,
shoulders slouched,
lungs relaxed,
soul filling
with nothingness.
Loud sobbing has stopped.
Shutting the shower off,
wrappping my lean body
into thin piece of cloth,
gathering up all
my emotional strength
for yet another fight
at battlefield,
fought through
emotional than physical.
Needing the emotional stamina,
more than physical strength,
I step out of
my shower.
With only thought of
second-by-second,
day-by-day,
I am emotionally strong.
YOU ARE READING
Illusion
PoetryUnsaid thoughts..... Unsaid words.... Unsaid feelings.... Unsaid adventures of my mind....
