Scared, was I? 

I wish I could bare the pain,

Of losing the people who are not vain, 

Of the things that matter,

Of the feelings that I don’t want to scatter,

Oh, wait,
Scared, Was I? 

From standing in front of the mirror,

Looking at myself with such horror,

Devoid of a mother’s touch, 

A sister’s love, 

Breaking me piece by piece with precision that I wished wouldn’t hurt much, 

Pushing me into a deserted cave,

Where I would miss her palm over my head when she’s away,

And those little moments of ebullience and pray.
Scared, was I?

From calling to mind those relishing moments and that age full of notoriety,

Of sensing that I cannot get its proprietary,

Stiffening my muscles at my incapability, 

I realised how nonchalant was I at age 3! 
 
Scared , was I?

After sensing that he would die someday, 

Leaving me all alone at the bay,

The heart is nipped and eyes gripped, 

To get a chance to abut him again, 

And let myself feel his last breath without abstain.

But what scared me more?

The fear of losing the people whom I loved to the core

Or the happiness that will sway away without the love they always poured.

Selfish, Am I? 

I do not want to lose the joy of watching the sparkle in my sister’s eye, 

The touch of my mother’s lips on my forehead, 

My father patting my back, 

And my smile that make stars clack.

I desire to stop every moment that I spend with them,

Keep momentous of their gleeful days and pillows of the days when they cried and slept, 

I always feared attachments to such depths,

Who knew the deepest corner of my heart stored my darkest fears haunting me to bits.

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8 thoughts on “Scared, was I? 

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