By Mishtha Girdhar
Tears I hold inside — the blood of my soul indeed
Like the dark clouds holding raindrops, bursting into downpours beneath.
Thunderstorms inside me that embolden —
I mask the pain of a heart that’s broken.
But cry, wail, weep and shamble
Like a broken glass—shattered and dismantled.
For tears that you hold inside, release them indeed,
Like the dark cloud holding raindrops, bursting into downpours beneath.
And all your storms shall pave way to the light—
That blends with your tears and paints the sky bright.
And you needn’t mask the pain of your broken heart,
For vulnerability is a brave man’s task.
A coal that never burned is a diamond never made,
And one who never grew equals one who never failed.
A phoenix that never fell is a phoenix that never rose.
How tragic must it be?
For a heart that never broke is a heart that never broke free.
So, remember this—for wiser words have never been spoken:
A heart once broken is a heart wide open.