“I AM”

“I AM”

I am not lost. I am forced to be lost. A faceless gypsy wearing a façade of a scar-less stranger. A demonic darkness hiding behind the enlightened angel.

I am not the enemy. I am made to be thought to be the foe. Stealing what belongs to everyone else. Because nothing belongs to me. I am the fear that crawls under the buttered skin.

I am not a sinner. I am made to sin. To own up to the recently emancipated monster. Trying to make it up to that coveted pedestal. Because the little girl inside me just wants to spread her ravenous wings and fly away to find the place she can call home. So that she can finally rest in peace.

I am not faceless. I am just made to wear the paper mask of a forever-smiling soul who gets it all. Who can never make it on her own because she had to assassinate what she had of her own to come so far. Just to escape the bedlam and fill up the room with the scent of a lavender candle.

I am not a loner. I am forced to stay alone. Because someone or the other will always break my tender heart. And each time I will fall apart and rise up to own little pieces of stones in place of my beating heart, till I succumb to be as cold as the abandoned cement floor.

I am not friendless. I cut them off whenever I feel they don’t need me. Like the first time when I cut my wrist, it hurt but eventually the skin becomes numb. Because when you’ve always been the last option, you learn to give importance to yourself. Hence, selfishness is born.

And I did not always hate the rain you know. I used to love the sound and the smell of it, get drenched in it and listen to love songs on the radio. But when you’ve been fooled a too many times, you learn to walk in the rain without crying your heart out. And then there’s always the option of singing your sorrows out in the hidings of your shower.

And maybe just one day, all those torn pages will sum up to something worthy to be looked upon. And the absence of light will vanquish its very own presence. And while the dimples overshadow the aches, nothing can deny the brown eye’s poignant power.

And as the wait for the arrival of resolve lasts, let me take walk around the corner I forgot to walk by while trying to exist in the concoction of what was, what is and what will be.

You see, they have offer this sweet strong aroma of an everlasting feeling in their aphrodisiac coffee.

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