• bhavabhivyakti 10w


    Living at the outskirts of a place called 'belongingness',
    Having a native heart,
    yet being called an outsider over and over..
    Mixing in tears with hopes,
    And stubbornness with compliance,
    like liquor with flames, wanting to taste some numbness..

    I fail to blend my own hues,
    into the dear red bricks fragrant of my own blood..
    I fail to be less than a soul ,
    even for a love, loving enough to call my own..

    How do I let go of my longing to belong,
    if all it takes is for me to forget myself..
    How do I scream away my truth,
    if everything I know and understand is a ringing silence..
    How do I put into words,
    what to my people is just my quiet delusion..

    I don't know what am I doing,
    still needing to be heard and understood..
    While by now I should be comfortably seasoned,
    in my own salty burn of 'helplessly mute'..
    Yet there's still a part in me
    that'd rather stay empty than pay the wrong cost..
    Living at the outskirts of a place called 'acceptance',
    the Homeless Heart in me will always feel lost..