For quite a long period of time, I was feeling things I just couldn’t put into words; couldn’t vocalise, couldn’t write. There was this sense of just not being able to write from my heart, because my heart had put up a nuclear plant worthy wall of cement around it and sat there, shaking its head obstinately, giving everyone the silent treatment. And I just didn’t want to. Nothing flowed. Years went by like this until my heart finally decided it had had its rest and solitude, and now it wanted to talk about it. This is what it said.
There is no path back to innocence;
You ride this road to hell or glory
Or, most dire, the shades in between.
You cannot undo, unsay, unfeel…
And worst, worst of all, you can
Never unsee what has been seen.
It plays like a film in your head,
Worn-thin from the need of the addict
Like that hit of an addiction,
The rich, dark lure of an obsession
Then a natural death.
Everything burns itself out
Like a jingle. The sort you want to kill.
Picture Attribution: Some rights reserved by *_Abhi_*