"Detached Selves" (An Original Poem)

in #hive-1614652 years ago

"Detached Selves"

I don't know
If this is an illusion,
but it still attracts us?

If you look intoxicated,
I don't know how I feel,
I am just forced to obey and obey.

In detached, enchanted eyes
I have to look,
No, this is not me!

Changed?
Yes, a lot.
Nothing in the mind.

Words collapse,
nothing in frame
but it is my only fault.

Why keep looking?
Is illusion inside of you?
The look that took me to the abyss?

When you look, the pulse of life stops,
threatened I feel,
The heartbeat becomes zero.

Yours sincerely,
Don't talk like that anymore.
Like I am nothing to you but a bore.

Ignorant tantrums,
Harsh remarks,
Repeated attempts of insults, it is all that.

Claim of disagreement,
Blame for life,
Who is true and who is belied?

If you accept this,
A repeated wrangle,
I will no longer have two eyes.

The eyes that only see you,
The eyes that feel defeated,
The eyes that mingle in fear of loss.

The sympathy of heaven is in your gaze.
Yes, the sympathy of heaven.
Nothing can be more deluded than I.

Sharp gazes,
Refuted utters,
Mismanagement is all I suffer.

Your approval,
That clutters,
Shattered is our embrace in demises.

Breathtaking impulses,
hones your gaze,
what is it that binds us, I am dazed.

A protective embrace,
an entangled mess,
scooping our temper little by little.

What a fragile engagement,
caught our emotions,
bewildered are our gaze.

I don't know
If this is an illusion,
but it still attracts us?

If you look intoxicated,
I don't know how I feel,
I am just forced to obey and obey.

In detached, enchanted eyes
I have to look,
No, this is not me!

Changed?
Yes, a lot,
but nothing in the mind.

Accounted to you are my feelings,
respected virtues which never loose,
yet for some reason we stay apart.

The End!


{Cover- Image from Pixabay}


Theme of the poem: I was hurt like usual and the feelings started to accumulate when I started to write this poem down. It has always been like this, I am unable to control my emotions from childhood and that makes me vulnerable quite easily. My own family gets irritated and are unable to cope up with me and my emotions. While I am already suffering from within, the only way out seems to me is by writing it down. My messed up emotions need a space, a space that recognizes it as it is, so I am here.

Interesting facts: This poem is not entirely the common type I usually write. It has gotten very less rhythmic lines and is more monotonous. Each stanza is telling the story, connecting the story but the it not lyrical at all. However, if you read each stanza as a line and take a breath before reading the next, you will find a correlation in the meaning and it will start to have a tune to it. Not a rhythmic one but one that connects it all.

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