I have a place, a secret one,
I have a part of me locked inside it.
Not sure whether it's soul, mind, but definitely important.
Maybe all of me.
Leaving just bones and flesh outside,
to wander off in this world.
To never let anyone know of the secret.
To never let anyone see that every second,
Is like an hour in the inside.
My biggest smile is a cover up of the
Loudest scream from within.
My eyes wide open and dead at the same time
Devoid of the twinkle, the light, the fire
It had in childhood.
But as I started to grow up, so did the noises,
It came from people, friends, strangers, anyone.
Without even knowing when,
I started paying heed to them.
Within no time it spread,
Like Cancer,
Took over the command inside of me,
And I continued cluelessly.
So lost in the outside world, work.
That one day when I finally called out,
There was no voice.
I tried reaching my conscience, my soul,
Nothing came but silence.
So, I set out one day to find in the outer world,
What I had lost inside.
I tried to find it in other people,
Lovers, friends, family, in work.
But every time I felt emptiness eating me,
From inside, like termites in the wood.
And I got weaker and weaker,
Every day, every minute.
So, I tried again,
But this time I went inside,
the coldness scared me.
But I knew no other place held my answers, other than me.
And there I was with me in a dark room,
The kind that makes one tremble
so absolute,
I couldn't get closer because there were bars made of noises,
about my talent, about me being not good enough.
Solidified and cemented by my inferior complexes.
So many of them.
So profound, so stiff and still.
It had gained strength from my surrenders, each time.
Its acuteness represented my own failure to acknowledge,
Of how exposed I was to people and their problem.
Their problem of following, judging everyone else through a lens of perfection, superficiality,
Their beauty standards,
Their inability to see beyond skin and complexion,
Their facade of a perfect rich life.
Yet I had duly collected and turned someone else's problem into my insecurity,
Piles and piles for miles,
Then made my life about overcoming those very things.
It wasn't supposed to be like that,
I should have known better.
Should have laughed it off,
Moved on.
But these bars represented my failure to do so,
The coldness signifying my own inability to see myself, accept as human,
Living, breathing and flawed.
If flawed meant not fitting in, so be it,
If flawed signified being an outcast, so be it,
If flawed is more like an antonym to being chained, then gladly I will be it.
I had tormented my body, my soul, my mind enough.
For something so futile and pointless.
In a desperate attempt to regain my lost old self, I extended my hand and called out,
The only voice and the only thing I heard was "Welcome to your Prison".