‘The Lonely Moribund‘ was voted by members of WSA-R community as Literary Work of the Week (August 19–25, 2024).
And all that felt like a cold breeze yesterday
Turned into a violent fire, roasting and burning me to ashes.
I’ve already cried and screamed yesterday
So I can’t today unless I want to be mistaken with that boy who cried wolf.
What difference would it make, anyway?
I thought a scar was a sign that one had healed from their past wound.
I thought it marked strength.
But today, it shattered into a fresh wound
And blood flowed anew,
Proving me wrong. Mocking me for having believed in that nonsense.
Until today, I thought the road was getting bright again
I glanced back at the eyes I thought looked at me with love and longing
But it was all a short daydream that ended right when hope shook my hand.
Now, the road has turned even darker than it was before,
And here I am, roaming the streets, with no idea where to place my next step.
But what hurt me the most was not the dark road or the candles that suddenly died
It’s the fact that I’m the wind that blew all the candles
And brought darkness to the road that I was taking.
It is the truth that I am shameless enough to feel the emptiness in this road
Even when I am the one who wore this scary outfit of a tiger.
Now kids are screaming at my scary face, and I can’t untie this knot of guilt on my heart.
