Thursday, August 16, 2012

The You Is An Other Me

dead of the night,
when dreams hold me tight.
i fly away to you,
into the valley crimson and blue.

away, alone, i find the wind,
blowing freedom under my wing.
i then take flight,
and fly out of sight.

i perch on a new nest,
with a clean chest.
there i find another you 'lone,
with no wing, and a broken bone.

looks like he has fallen off the tree,
in the pang to be free.
suddenly at the whack of time, screaming! yelling! mummy woke me
awaken in my dead dreams, i realize the you is an other me.

the you is an other me.

"years of abuse had left my mind numb. there are some things that were deep submerged in my memory as blind spots. and everytime i speak about abuse, some of these blind spots open up. and suddenly intuitively i remember some sketchy lines and incomplete thoughts that i had once thought of, but lost them in the sands of time. the above poem is one such thing, that i had probably penned during my early college years."

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