I don’t say that pain is absence of pleasure,
pain isn’t that devil, as folklore says,
it consumes one wholly like love, pride and confidence,
this pullulating pain proliferates to every cell and consumes energy, power and strength.
For many a times, I have been half in love with easeful death maybe with a single wrist cut to not bear and live through a life in which melancholia is chief,
sleeping pills sounds to be a better option,
permanent sleep rather than insomniac nights.
As I stare at the ceiling,
I begin looking for solace in solitude in itself,
my words are dipped in silence, if silence had a voice, hands in the clock speak to me, the dripping water in my washroom plays tune to thoughts, trees sings along with the breeze.
These trees are tired in the attempt of providing air to my suffocating alveolus.
The dark circles under my eyes refers to future that’s even more darker,
the pungent aroma of anguish and hurt has suffused my lungs and the pleural lining has a black coating as that of a chainsmoker.
I can no longer accept and exist in the maybes of “forever”, maybes of “it’s okay”, maybes of “this too shall pass”.
For one like me,
it’s a hopeless search, for happiness, peace in the place where I lost all of them at once.
I saw them in the darkness, the trembling seasons of human and terrible seasons of life,
global warming induced climate changes in the environment, what about the changes in humans?
Their special ability to camouflage in situations, make me think,
if humans evolved from chameleons and had guanine crystals under every cell.
If only I came with a caution note-
“handle with care”, people would have not considered me a toy or a glass.
Broken glasses hurt, cause slits in skin, I don’t,
I break again if touched by sympathetic hands and
those broken pieces find their own destiny.
I realized, every hellos and goodbyes teach lessons,
The life I live is like dried rose petals that still have all essence in it.
You can cut all the flowers, but you cannot keep spring from coming,
I trust the last ray of sunshine and illuminate my dingy life,
I sit with a pen, to pen down a poem on pain and of all the things I’m made of.
I thought that my last post won’t appear in the reader or people won’t receive notification about it since I posted it after a very long time. Surprisingly, nothing of that sort happened and those heartwarming comments in it means to be the world to someone like me.
All I can say is a huge thank you to everyone here!
And talking about this piece, it’s something that’s very close to heart and one of the long poems I’ve written. The fourth stanza is inspired from a conversation with my friend, who’s my saviour, has no other go, but listen to what I blabber about.
I love dark poetries but never imagined me writing a one, writing about pain was painful indeed.
Thank you so much for reading!❤️