I cried under my blanket one night,
And no one ever realized;
It slowly turned into my habit,
And I did that whenever something wasn't right.
The next day, I'd have the best smile on,
Who says I'm not a reality actor?
For I even act nice with even those who made me cry—
Who else other than me, knows that they are the con?
Sometimes I was tightly embraced,
The warmth of the hug staying back forever,
And the pain and bruises I went through felt relieved,
The one rare moment, when I felt loved and cared.
It's true no one was ever there for me,
When in problems, I faced them alone,
And never does anyone ever get a glimpse of my true self,
For when people see me, they think I'm really happy.
Only my blanket knows,
How much I am hurt and broken,
That how I dream of unknown freedom,
But how enslaved I am, only my secret tear shows.
Still I'm living, even though I know this is not what I deserved,
For I know one day it will get better,
One day, maybe a trusty soul shall come by,
And one day maybe I'll get to feed the 'friends' what I was served.
Till then, I'm just gonna wake up to the sun,
And sleep cuddling my bunny, and sniffling silently;
And till then the rays shall charge me up with smile and hope,
And help me wait for the day, when I'll be holding the gun.
YOU ARE READING
LIFE IN VERSE
PoetryEverything in this world is sugar-coated. At first glance, we all see only the beauty, the beauty in the lie. But slowly, this sugar melts and that's when the truth hits us. Raw and bitter. Hard to face. We feel like running away. Giving up. But we...
