Last night, a lot broke up at home:
Mom’s shattered cutlery was epitome;
The car-windshield and dad’s chart,
Left no trace like my foundered heart.

Money would replace the losses,
All but one, which was still in musses,
The broken heart shall take its time,
Yet, it shall tick, weak and sublime.

My heart was always brittle,
It always fell prey to battle,
Layers of flesh and bones,
Couldn’t stop the pelted stones.

I foresaw the onslaught,
But all precautions went naught,
Ignoring the aftermath at bay,
I gave my heart away.

I blame none but myself,
Fighting eventuality itself,
I lost out, and nearly killed,
The heart which now stands tilled.

I pop pills to blind the pain,
Wearing plastic smiles to attain,
Much-needed closure and faux joy,
Contrived, like a child’s battered toy.

Someday, into the future,
I shall rise, aroused and mature,
Then, I’d beam and past, now interred,
I was sure shaken but not stirred!

The past week was a rather hard one for me. Something bad happened. Not that I would be beating the drums about it, but it did cause a wound deep in my mind; A huge gash, that shall keep hurting for long.

The gash was necessary evil. I did my best to escape it, but it eventually had to smash me to smithereens. And here I am, pinned down, scarred for life! How I’d use the ‘scar’ is yet to be seen, I could definitely wear it on my sleeve and look good (a la Harry Potter, if you may), or shun myself from the world, retracting myself into an impermeable shell. The latter option is just as impractical as it sounds –  it would jeopardize myself and everyone close to me. And the scar isn’t exactly something I’m too proud about. It’s eating me, bit-by-bit, minute by minute – the pain is so consummate, I can’t stand it any more; and I can’t afford to shout out in pain either, lest I reveal myself.

In retrospect, it all might be for good – I could learn to relish the pain, and be a masochist in the process, or I could fight back, and do my best to come clean, getting the wound to heal. Injury was inevitable, it would have happened, no matter what. And it’s a reality, there’s no escaping from it – it would (and it has) debilitated me for life. Remains to be seen how it shall turn my life around.

I’m just going to need a lot of luck and perseverance to get myself back in the groove, before the wound would have me amputate myself.

God save me.