I lay here, no voice surrounds me,

no voice other than my own misery.

The misery; that has kept me captivated for years.

The misery; that does not plan on leaving me.

My heart it does break, or does it?

Every now and then crumples it to pieces,

The efforts I put in, to ament it,

all turned to mud with in moments.

I sit here silently, by myself

Ignorant of the lively world next to me;

the world that moves and breaths,

the world that is no doubt alive.

But my sorrows are greater, my joys less heard, less wanted.

My heartbeats my own, alongside the pain,

the misery, other thinks it brings

for me it is the melodious sound of trumpets

blown in my ears keeping me alive.

And alive I am.

Published by Arooba Hameed