In a corner of my soul,
I buried what was me,
And marked it with a teardrop.
At every turn, and every rise and fall,
I took a break, to rummage through the debris,
And the heaps of nothingness,
To find that mark -
That teardrop i etched and hid into the folds of my abandoned self.
I cradled my buried self till I was required to slip back into reality,
To fool everyone with a made-up identity.
Every now and then I stare that corner which hides my buried self.