A very old poem I wrote when I was suffering from clinical depression and couldn’t see any hope ahead.
They say life is not a bed of roses
You say everyone goes through one
But tell me, dear, for once
Do you know what it is really like?
To witness life as a car crash
Hear everything you held close
Breaking like glass, into a trillion pieces
To feel life like an earthquake
Clinging onto the petty objects
When your belief has cracks beyond repair
To run away from this tsunami called life
Hoarding tiny waves of emotions
And shopping it into a fierce demon
When life becomes dark as a never-ending tunnel
Death seems to be as welcoming as home