Forgotten

It’s dark in here; I cannot see,

The darkest self that has come to be,

Has put me in a prison which I’ve come to accept,

Where I can hear my own cries, but cannot see.

I look for windows in this black cell of mine,

They’re not there, his planning is fine,

But ‘his’ in this context confuses me,

For I cannot decide whether it is ‘his’ or ‘my’.

I want to escape, but I want to stay,

A feeling I’ve often felt a way,

But the grey in my mind slowly fades to black,

As I always give in anyway.

I see what he’s seen, I hear what he’s heard,

And he hears depression in the chirps of a bird,

Everything he knows now is black or white,

And a tinge of grey dominates his words.

It’s awfully dull in this prison of mine,

But I’m not one to complain or whine,

For I’ve long forgotten these vibrant hues,

Which once used to be the bliss of my mind.

 

-Manish Subramanium

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s