By Musakanya Chisanga.
Am lost in my own mind.
I search day and night where my heart hides.
I’ve become cold, hostile
Converse with the demons that walk beside.
I embrace their presence as day becomes night and night my reason for lost sight.
Am called by my past, it whispers to my ears
As a heart, does to its lover, desperately clinging to my soul,
Am weak, can’t even speak or utter a squeak,
I don’t want to turn back to the old me, the dark me, the real me,
At least I thought it was,
And maybe pain was just meant for me.
Even as I write, hiding away the hurt,
covering it with a smile painted with the colour of love,
Wait, wake up and slowly my head rises from the bed,
Eyes wide open, no one by my side, Where I lay,
The grave of my past, present, and future,
Dear me, rest in peace and don’t cry for the broken pieces.
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