By Rumana Momin
But when I think about it,
I get it — it’s not them.
It’s me.
I’m the one who deserved it.
It’s me.
I failed as a daughter,
Trying to keep up with expectations,
While I’m just trying to breathe in my water.
It’s me.
I failed as a sister,
Broke their trust,
Left them with a blister.
It’s me.
I failed as a student.
I should have achieved more,
But I guess I just couldn’t.
It’s me.
I failed as myself.
In all the chaos, trying to fit in…
I lost myself — allowed the storm to sink in.
Someone asked me,
“Why don’t you speak much?”
But do they know?
Whenever I speak as such,
They make me feel
Like I shouldn’t speak much.
The words I utter…
Soft like butter to me,
But to them, they cut —
Like knives that stutter.
And that’s when I realise:
It’s me.
It’s me,
The one who says things in fun,
Not knowing my words burn like the sun.
Now I know — I’m just the fern,
Trying to be happy, holding my life raft…
Even the candle flickers in the draft.
It’s me.
I’m the one who feels lonely in a crowd.
My thoughts go higher than the cloud.
I want to scream out loud —
Just to be heard,
Not to be seen as “dowd.”
It’s me.
I want someone to understand me,
Tell me that it’s going to be fine.
Someone I can call mine.
Someone who knows that I cry a lot,
Who’d hold my tears in a little pot.
Someone who’d get my pain —
And wouldn’t let it go in vain.
I thought about it today,
When I was alone, still in my sane.
Do I have this person in my life?
Yes, I do.
It’s me.