I envy people who can run away
like running away from their own thoughts, people
and sometimes even from themselves
The true self.

Then they play the game called pretending
it’s simple,
just believe that you’re running towards your home
even when you have killed your own family
as you were born

It’s easier this way
to leave the guilt long back
& forget the crimes that you’ve committed
with a gunshot, a simple phrase
or just a drop dead silence

Because suffering is for the weaker ones
and escape is the new brave here
a new age warrior who rode
until there was nothing but 
a dark valley where suffering runs in loops without any clause

I’m the one, oh what they call the weaker one
who stabs himself on his own feet
every time a sin is committed around
taking pain & hurt for those
sinned

And it’s tough to run with bleeding feet
under your body
tougher with a heart that pumps out
blame & guilt
belonging to someone you’ve never even sensed before

Yet, I stay.
Patience is the new weak, if you don’t know yet
because sinners are the winners here
who always ran out of the track

I lie down on the thorns painted red
still envying the people who left their true selves beside me
when all I can do with them is
stab my own brain


Poem Description

This was the first poem I wrote during my last break and I don’t remember what does this really mean. I don’t have much of a description for this one.

I don’t know what I exactly wanted to say here. Maybe I know a little about it. But I don’t know. Hope you get it.

So, I would really love to know your interpretations about this poem. Do let me know in the comments section below.

Thank you for reading !


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