Unspoken Words

These words are heavy,

They fill me with the burden of grieve and make my heart sink

They break and mend my mind over and over again

They cause magma of pain to erupt, cool and solidify in me

They diffuse in my blood, thickening and coagulating it

They make my eyes bloodshot and redden my tears

They soak my soul, dampening and filling every inch of me

They bruise the walls of my heart because they want to be free and be heard.

My heart throbes with fear at the ernomity of these words…

And i want to speak of these words,

To say them all till no fragment remains in me

To say them all till i’m light and my bruised heart heals

To say them all till they fill the air

To say them all till my cords become feeble and weak

To say them all till my shouting seems like whisper

To say them all till i can feel warm tears roll down my cheeks once again

To say them all till my mind is not bound, and free to roam once again

To say them all till “the fear of having them heard” no longer resides in me…

But then i still want to hold on to these words because,

They make and define me

They stand as the barrier of difference between you and i

They are my words and i don’t want to have the void feeling of no longer having them

They toughen me, and i fear fragility without them

They can make you redefine me and i don’t want to lose you

They are not trusted and letting go of them might mean the release of toxins and the poisoning of pure minds

I don’t want to have nothing to hold on to.

These words remain behind bars in my mind, knowing they may never be set free…

I Remember

I Remeber,


When i was always thrilled by the approach of christmas in december,


when “pain” was not getting the toy i so much craved for or getting injected when i had malaria,


when i believed in total dependence on my parents,


when i was their little kid,


when i found it cool making stuff with building blocks.


I Remeber,


when i freaked out on seeing a green mamber for the first time,


when i sat under moonlight to listen to nightly tales told by my Grams,


When “unhappiness” was not getting the right birthday gift,


when all i told “her” was how cool her hair ribbon was,


when i looked forward to summer because it was like an eternal holiday,


when my mind was stable and never swayed,


when i always jumped to hug my Grams making my legs drape around her waist whenever she came visiting.


I Remeber,


when the farther i went into the school’s session, i always craved for summer because i knew it was nearer.


when i would sleep on the couch and wake up on the bed,


when i never knew what it meant to lust,


when the urge of struggle and desperation never ran in my veins,


when my face brightened up with excitement whenever i was able to give color to a drawing,


when “losing”, was not winning a crash bandicot race,


when i believed this »»» “if you take too much chocolates, your teeth will fall off” and i was okay with that.


when i never knew what it meant “growing up”


All these…connections to the past.


But then this present will become the past too and all that would be left are memoirs…

If They Ask About The Past

Forged Words.

If they ask about the past,

Do not tell them you don’t drink because your dad was an alcoholic,

Do not tell them he beat your mum all the time,

Do not tell them your sister was abused or how many times your brother was in rehab.

If they ask about the past,

Do not tell them how lonely and sad you were,

Do not tell them how many times you cut yourself to get the bad blood out,

Do not tell them that your happiest dreams were the ones where you were dying.

If they ask about the past,

Do not tell them of the one that got away,

Do not tell them of the friends that left when you needed them the most,

Do not tell them that 2 a.m holds your darkest secrets and deepest tears.

If they ask about the past,

Do not tell them of…

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Dark Simulation

“Wake up!” The voice sounds deep in my head causing a sharp pain in my ears. My eyes flip open instantly at lighteningt speed. I get up almost immediately throwing myself off the bed, my feet send off a flashing pain as they hit the ground, i flinch a bit. I look at the ground and look on till my eyes begin to move up the walls towards the ceiling and i’m startled – rather afraid, i’m in the middle of nowhere, in a desolated building. I hear a squeaking sound and suddenly my pulse increases and i feel my heart beginning to beat a bit faster than normal.
“Be calm” i mutter to myself as i try to trace the direction i had picked the sound source from, but staying calm seems to be out of it as i still feel my heart pounding harder against my chest, this time like it’s going to plunge out any moment soon. My eyes keep scanning the room as i move gently forward, the fear of what i might see or what is generating the squeaking sound makes me quiver as beads of sweat gather around my fore-head.
Thick cobwebs seem to be hanging from the ceiling to the walls-which look so gray with several cracks between them like they’ll give way any moment soon and i can see a number of holes in them, large enough for my fist to pass through. The ground feels so dry and hard under my feet, that i feel a slight pain whenever i move my feet.
I hear the squeaking sound again, but this time much louder than before. I tense up a bit and begin to move faster now, i can’t tell what begins to drive me faster now…probably fear. I take a passage to my left which appears dark so i press my back against the wall and walk like i’m on a ledge, i feel something different now against my back and i fall into a room as my back slams against the ground sending a sharp jolt of pain through me, i had leaned against a door and it shut almost instantly. The room gives away a stench which forces bile up my throat but i hold it down preventing myself from throwing up – which will only make the room smell worse. I get up and and feel a sudden shock wave through my body, something is different about this room, it looks okay-untouched almost contradicting the other room which i had just come from except for the stench which i’m beginning to get a bit used to.
A very wide glass window appears to the left of the room-wide enough for five of me to pass through at the same time and for a moment i wonder why a window will be this wide.This whole place just seems out of it-totally weird. I sight a small shelf at the right end corner of the room and i make my way towards it, i slide open the first drawer and find a pistol, for a brief moment i’m blank and i just stare at it not knowing what to do, i finall pick it with my shaking hands and my palms moist as they get a grip on it, i open the second drawer and i find an axe which i pick immediately without hesitation knowing it’ll come in handy when i try to find a way through the window which will lead to an open space rather than going through the door which i fell in through, that will only lead me to a point where i will get more nested in this dilapidated buliding. I open the third drawer and find two bullets and i piece of folded paper…i slide the bullets into my breast pocket and unfold the paper, a sudden cold-struck feeling spreads through my body and i feel like i’m being submerged in a pool of ice, my eyelids giving rapid unsteady blinks as they depict the bold writing-“ONLY ONE SURVIVES…THE ONE”…