One night, I lay with my friend under the same duvet
Our laughs ricocheted in the quiet
I ask my friend a simple question "Does this duvet feel like a cage to you?"
They reply with a confused mind
"What? This duvet is soft and warm. Why would it feel like a cage?"
But that's the beauty of it right?
We lie under the same sky
But how to perceive it, is something that we decide
This duvet feels like a cage to me
Not made of warm fur but instead of cold gold
The rods are a thick affair
Engraved with my past sins
And every time they touch my skin
It starts to bleed crimson pain
Oh, how ironic this scene is
Cause now I am bleeding the same blood that someone else bled
The pain I gave is the pain I get
Isn't my cage pretty, all gilded and gaudy?
But a cage is still a cage whether made of cheap bronze or expensive gold
While a caged withers away in the harsh cold
"Hey, are you okay?"
The million-dollar question has arrived
But you see it's not easy to define
A word that holds so much power over our daily lives
So today I ask myself again
Am I okay?
The answer is still unclear
What is okay here referring to?
Physically okay or mentally okay
What if it's referring to both?
Then the answer is no.
I am not okay.
The darkness in my mind is crippling
The numbness in my chest is paralyzing
My body is a war zone, with scars that do not stop bleeding
So, I say
"Oh, come on, I am perfectly fine."
Because I am not looking for pity in their eyes
It is too much an emotion for my fragile mind
And honestly, I don't know what I am looking for
Cause I've grown accustomed to this emptiness
And now even a small drop feels like an ocean.
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YOU ARE READING
Withering petals of my hurting heart
PoetryA collection of poems that I wrote when my whole existence felt like a joke and I felt shackled by my own demons.