Under the broken windows of my thoughts.

via coverbooth

via coverbooth

Reality hurried towards me, breaking the windows my thoughts, hitting me hard on the head like a rock. I gasped for air. The pain was so excruciating but I couldn’t scream. I dare not scream. My heart felt as if it was being clenched tightly in a fist. I, a captive animal in terror, stood there as the tears glazed my tired eyes.
No matter how much I tried, it would always hurt. Perhaps, one can never get used to pain. A wound if reopened, stings with greater intensity. It hurts with more depth each time. Being completely immune to such feelings…
I was just lying on the dock, thinking. Trying to define my life in two seasons. Spring and Autumn.
Spring was a few years back when I was a little bud who had just burst open into a flower. A flower fragile yet robust. Experiencing the very first rains, waiting for the sun, getting caressed by snow, spreading fragrance and going with the flow of wind.
But Autumn slipped slowly and quietly under the velvety blanket of happiness and covered me. Autumn clutched me and plucked me out of my own garden.
There was a time when I’d wait for sun but now it just lurked in the copper sky watching me fall apart. It doesn’t rain anymore. I can see the greenery around me turning dull, the crimson leaves falling down on the ground. I want to help turn it back to fresh green, to bring it back to life but I can’t. I can’t because I’m nothing but a frail, weak, dampened spirit.
My cheek felt wet. I returned to the real Autumn, the reality. Lying on the dock, under the broken windows of my thoughts.


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