
Postmaster General
LIFE:A FICTION
But Maybe,
Only Maybe,
My Pain Is Fictional
And Would End With My story
That’s still
Unwritten...
I walk
with my muscles
A
Burden
On my
Bones now,
My skeleton
Is
Hollow
Now, I
Walk with
My skin,
On my muscles
All rotten
Now,
I’ve
No feelings,
I’m
More of a
Stone now !
My life has changed into a completely unbearable mass of sorrow. If there was any instrument to measure sorrow, then maybe mine would exceed above the bars and the instrument would shatter into numerous pieces. But my sorrow was a gift unwrapped, a kind of pain I unleashed myself. I still curse myself for my ingenious moves each day. It’s so painful, that I crib and cry and go to sleep in irresistible pain, I feel miserable and I don’t like seeing myself this helpless, well who would like it anyway ?
.............. But, the morning comes with no beauty either. A new day only puts this process On repeat. Each and every day I suffer. Maybe my sorrow is a labyrinth, endless and painful. Maybe all that I’ll ever be able to do is die one day trying to untangle myself from this mass of sorrow.
I’m like
A prisoner kept
In
A cage.
It
Is Small.
I can’t even
Stretch
Let
Alone ever
Escape.
Well I would
Say, it is not
Even a
Cage,
It is more
Of
A whole where
I roll
Like a ball and
Stay.
And if once
In a blue moon,
I’m let out,
I feel
That I forgot
how Tall
I’m
Still
For
Of
No use it is
As in the
End of
The day
I too
end up
As a ball
And just
Stay.
I cry sadistic tears. They think it’s my weakness. I think that my end would be painful and hopeless. Like a screaming lunatic. All I can do now is just hope that, may the odds ever be in my favour.
Written by Anushka Sangari
Best Submission- September 2020- Scrabble.