Often in the night

I feel an urge

to talk

to anyone

but i don’t wish to explain

To find a person who knows my journey

or atleast some of it

I scroll everyone in my mind

A face comes up

a face, which shouldn’t

Someone who is the reason for such situation

but i can’t help it

my fingers are not in my control

my mind doesn’t listen to me

I know, nothing good is going to come out of it

but still i do

only to be humiliated

only to be more sad

only to sound more desperate

Victims have a love for their oppressors

a love, i can’t define at the moment

a need to belong somewhere, to someone

Even after such endurance

I subect myself to same suffering

He gets more powerful

And i end up deeper in the well

The circle of light is smaller

I cry and nothing happen

It echoes into the sounds of poetry

The audience cheers away

So beautiful it says

My suffering is an art now

But I am not the artist

as they say

They ask me his identity

I deny the existence

But I cannot convince anyone

Each comes to me

talks to me

tries to occupy the vaccum

the place of aforementioned artist

They want to be my artist

design my cries better

They want to feel better

about their own sins

about their own failures

about their own guilt

What do i do

I let them

For i have a need

A need to belong

The physical and emotional pain

was not enough

But it could have been bearable

He broke me in so many ways

Even years later, I realize

I have a need to be a victim

Victim to the wants of others

My cries are still there

I let them a peek

curing their pain with mine

Often i get tired

How long can i last

May be not long

But its a journey now

His face is gone

His voice is gone

He is gone

Only i am left

the results of his action

Still broken,

mustering up the courage

no one can do this to me again

no one can

Only i can do

The broken part speaks to me

The time is stuck

I am aging

a shell within a shell

Nothing further

I am stronger than before

for i do not cry

I am my own artist now

I supress myself

I am the victim and the oppressor

I do the same what was done to me

To feel him more close

To look myself from a perspective

Nothing is more sadder

But i cannot help it

Those weak moments in the night

They overrule me

I take the blame, I do

I can’t do much apart

I am ready to face

the results of my own actions

The punishment is very simple

To not feel anything ever again

The life is hell

The confinement is living

I am the judge, I am the victim and I am the culprit

I am everything..