Poetry

How I learnt to cope

I always thought that

 there was something 

whimsical

 about living in your head. 


The  privacy  

that never leaks into inquisitive 

 ears that may use it 

against me 

at some point.


There was always something

  safe 

about that dome

 later dubbed  as

 home. 


Yes

 there were questions

 which were later answered 

 through unfiltered answers

  that rushed , my membrane. 


It’s always been comfortable here, 

especially when time did it’s thing again

-moving  at it’s usual speedily pace.  

I despised the sound of my voice

 so I spoke less 

leaving my eyes to speak 

my hearts content.


They rarely  got it anyway.  


Mistakening my 

out pours 

from the silence that 

my lips

 refuse to speak 

as instructions for them to

 lay my fragile self on their Unmade bed. 


I  hated  that too.


I held too much truth within me, 

my chest always burnt with 

my secret  desires till it was charred. 


Internally  falling apart,  

I had  no one to speak to anyways. 

I had chased them away to live within  

in peace

without  their troubles 

 persistently beckoning at me. 


Alone I always wanted to be.

And alone I was. 


The constant battle 

of my internal  affairs

 at war for my sanity. 


But,

even if they were there , 

I  would still push them away. 


After all it was my special skill. 


How I learnt  to cope

-even if it killed me.

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