The monochromatic room Speaks in a whispered volume Through the window by the bed I look outside at the pouring rain Holding a cigarette. Hazy smoke fills the air Blurring the 70-square foot room I close my eyes Listen to the sound of the pouring rain Holding a cigarette.
In some kind of a dreamy state Feeling some kind of euphoric sense of freedom Smoke rises from the chimneys of old roofs The world has turned grey From the streets and the skies to the walls of the room Like the falling ash Like this metallic chair On which I sit in my white underwear Taking in a deep drag Feeling the sharpness of the smoke Buzzing through my mind Through my bare naked feet It feels right I wonder why? Why does everything bad have to feel so good? The heaviness The carelessness The messy sheets The art on the walls – The only thing worth holding on to. This greyness in the air Is like a song that plays In some corner of the mind This greyness in the air Brings out the freak inside Looking up at the sky With one foot on the chair and one hand resting on the knee Holding on to this burning desire A grey wisp of smoke curls in the air.
Holding on to all that’s present in this Dull artistic greyness Writing away all that I want All that I feel, Old memories come back to life. Where has that girl gone? Disappeared like thin air Into the mist Reckless and bold, Sassy and cold. Hidden somewhere deep inside Safe in a grey corner of my mind.
You think you belong to the land in which you were born, Then, why have I felt so alone and wrong? Like an outsider. I’ve never felt at peace at home. When I walked on the crowded streets, I wished to go unnoticed. Always hiding. Always so angry with everything around me. Always seeking a door, To take me away from the miseries of this world. Running, looking for an escape. Running after change.
When I finally found it, I grabbed it with both my hands. Leaving behind my home. Unthinkingly in desperation. I needed it so badly.
Of course, I was afraid! Change is not easy. But, my homeland has taught me to be brave. All those years spent in fighting Has given me strength to adapt to change.
When I opened my eyes to a new world, I asked myself, “Is this paradise?” Clear blue skies, lush green lands as far as the eye can see. Filling me with a sense of serenity.
As time flies, Slowly the feeling of awe subsides. Overwhelming emotions started to consume me. I looked around for familiar faces, But, there was nowhere to hide. I realised, I am the only outsider. How do I begin again?
But, my homeland reminds me. Never succumb to feelings of dread. Overcome and be brave. You have always been an outsider. Running after change.
In my closet I hide, Lock the door tight. Sit down on the carpeted floor, Holding a pencil to write. The walls cold as ice, On this snowy night, Sneer down upon me. As I lower my head and close my eyes. I hum a song to ease the restless mind, It’s time to get to work tonight.
Today, I will rise and stretch like a cat. Yawn real loud and open my mouth as wide as I can. Draw open the curtains and smile. Embrace the warmth of sunshine.
Today, I will not worry about the mistakes of yesterday. I will start the day by being kind to myself and the people around me. I will take time to work on a hobby that brings me joy. I will be thankful and show gratitude for what surrounds me.
Today, is going to be another day away from family and friends I will not crib or complain, I will tell myself to hold on to hope. As in my heart they are not far away.
I hit snooze again, Not once, not twice, bloody 14 times. Groggy as a drunken monkey, Slithering like a dazed slug. Is this still a dream? I sit down and wonder. Eyes droopy, head foggy. I feel like a zombie. Mum slaps my hand and stares at me. I growl at her, grumpily. This day isn’t going to go real well. No, don’t you tell me to go back to sleep again! I will make myself coffee, Turn down the lights, Listen to some jazz, Bask in this glorious grogginess, And work, alright?
It was a phase, When the little girl loved snowflakes. Nose pressed to the window pane, She spent hours gazing at swirling flurries, Gently breezing through the skies, Softly and quietly covering the world in white.
Now that phase has passed, Her tiny flakes of joy are lost, The girl has turned cold as frost. She finds the snow miserable and utterly cold. “A dazzling waste of time!” As she pulls down the window blinds, A snowflake silently glides Rekindling the light in her eyes.
A rustic wooden door, An old forgotten home with broken walls and bricks, Dried lifeless plants turned crispy and brown in broken pots. Does anyone live inside? It looks like it, There’s a broomstick outside. Probably, an old woman? Probably, a family with too many mouths to feed? Probably, a man who waited too long for his loved one to drop by? Probably, a recluse content within himself? Who knows.. What is the story, Behind this mysterious attractive door.