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.