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Fueling on Cyanide and Cynicism

Swati Koul

We, the generation of -
you-have-it-easier-than-us;
have to tip toe our way to help,
have to shush up our cries.

We gulp down our tears with the pain.
We muffle our fears away,
even before we can see it,
even before we can practice the smile.

We fall for people a little harder,
or "what we have is casual, right?"
We care a just little too much,
aren’t we just another check box on the to-do list?

We hope and dream and scream,
to feel something in return.
I guess we do have it easier,
but what even is easy anymore?

The sparks faded out few years ago,
It was so ingrained into my belief
that I am surprised I did not take notice
As my eyes were fixed at the dying flowers.

Cynicism bled out from my veins
as the void inside became darker;
My life was in an excruciating narrative
that I saw no reason to develop.

I repressed the sad at the cost of the happy,
is there any way to get those memories back?
No laughter is genuine, no tears leave a scar
I wonder if the deal was irrevocable.

I speak words of kind and sing songs of joy
but the disquietude burns inside of me,
I want to feel the magic of being alive again
Honestly, am I asking for too much?

Love, like my substance is overused by people
I want that childhood smell, that sweet smile
But honey your sugar is a little too sweet, it's poison
Do you think the odds were ever with us?

This journey of self discovery is a facade,
Pretending is all I have ever known, trust me
I wonder if I am jealous of how good they show it;
Do you think you will give me the validation if I asked?

Oh please let me pour my drink,
No longer want these sleepless nights.
I am in a battle with you and in a war with my self;
Do you think about me sometimes as well?

You held me back, I cut you off;
Few purple bruises that are easy to hide.
I will be under the ocean for sometime,
Do you think I am just another shipwreck?

I see faces and traces
of places and spaces.
Nothing exists for me.
Substance assists the sleep.


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