By Surbhi Verma
Words unsaid roll down my cheek,
While I stand in front of the canvas.
I breathe in the expectations I see,
And breathe out some pieces of me.
But I couldn’t let them go completely,
So I collected them in a bag I carry.
Over and over again,
I erase and repaint the parts of me,
Hoping I might fit the canvas this time,
With colors neither too much nor too bland.
A masterpiece that can have it all.
I put the bright colors in my bag,
Along with the brushes stained in gore.
It grew heavier with each stroke,
Until I couldn't carry it over my shoulder anymore.
Then I stopped.
I took a moment to admire my favorite
Work of art I had tirelessly created.
My blood, sweat, and tears I devoted,
Even though I was heavily sedated.
But the moment I laid my eyes on it…
I couldn’t believe what I saw.
It shook me to my core.
My knees touched the floor.
I couldn’t walk myself to the door,
Because what stood in front of me,
I couldn’t recognize it… at all.
I wanted to run away, as fast as could be,
Somewhere my creation wouldn’t follow me.
I wanted to be wild, I wanted to be free.
But a fleeting thought crossed my mind.
Perhaps what I really want…
Is to be found, with the bag that’s truly ME.