Is There Any More Room?

it’s easier to shadowbox alone

than to seek solace from kin

and be told to bear witness bluntly,

your words an inconvenient din

it’s easier to swallow uncomfortable truths

than to be frank about your pain,

and be blamed for a lack of faith;

your tears in vain

it’s easier to keep mum

than to be open about your trepidation

and resume a dormant argument;

your sentiments the bone of contention

you end up offering the olive branch

you end up apologising for feeling

you end up doubting your condition

you end up blaming yourself

my brokenness is my own doing; my pain is not for others to fix.

This article has been edited for the online platform.