Between Living and Dying

It’s in my nature
To hang somewhere between
Living and dying...

Agony doesn’t terrorize my core existence.
Usually, I hold on to moments
That consume the remnants of my being—
Tarnishing the fragments of hope,
Churning my soul for a while.
My mind believes it is its job to do these things for me!

The moment I try to escape the trap inside,
It always drags me down to the locked room in my head—
Which I often assume is sealed,
Full of the same old, relentless chaos!

Grappling in darkness,
Where the brighter 'Me,' is just a whisper.
Shackled by rusted chains of fears and doubts,
Beating myself for reasons I can't define,
Building a universe of hate for myself
I usually let myself bear the weight of unnecessary thoughts alone.

Not reaching for the hands that are ready to lift me,
Guide me to the light,
Lead me to the life

Knowingly ignoring the warmth offered by the world;
I end up putting the shackles on myself—
That's just me fighting the other 'Me.'

Where the  brighter 'Me' longs for dawn to break the endless night,
Often surrendering to the 'Me' that seeks to
Fracture the soul without tenderness,
Over and over again.

 

Lost in the loop of relentless sorrow,
I hang somewhere between
Living and dying,
Hoping to escape this turmoil within,
Yet somehow, loving how it shapes me, the piece that makes me whole.

Pallavi Kabbinahithlu