This feel of a restless soul is so familiar to the dead thought of my body.
The air of suffocation welcomes me once again and I helplessly surrender.
These spirits shout from these four walls where I was always caged. Tell me if you have seen me hugging myself tight, tucking my head between my knees.
I hate the existence of my hands, my nails which fails to hurt the iron bars.
I dislike the touch of my fingers beneath my eyes whenever it attempts to wipe these weak tears. These ears turn red as I outrageously crumple them to cease the haunting sound of pain. Tell me if you have seen me hurting my face with my nails?
Masked face veils the buried realities and I once again welcome hatred from people. So ironical is this appearance adapted that you love to hate me.
Tell me if you have ever looked in the eyes of this masked face.
Here I once again step at your door when you first told me that yes this is your life.
Written by Vrushali Deshpande
