These are but vain attempts to express, by one who wears her heart on her sleeve. Words, much like love, can be ever elusive... ever frustrating... like trying to paint a million stories on a single canvass. If you will read, please do not ask. Just feel. Or at least try to. The meaning is, whatever you have felt to be there, or the lack thereof :)

Melancholy

 
I long to be weak
That I may find my strength again.
Coz I’m so sick of being my own hero.
Of the lone companionship of my thoughts
So tired of continuously losing myself among familiar faces.

They can’t see
That I can’t deny them
 what they demand of me
And in so doing
Lose myself and gain nothing
Only becoming
Bitter, broken, empty.

I am slipping away.
So anywhere but here, please let me be.
Within, the seed of hate is day by day growing.
The mirror is starting to reflect nothing
My defenses are all crumbling
And I see myself
Defeating me.


12th August 2002
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