How Do I make it out?
No idea,
But instead, I have ideations.
My last letter,
how many times did I write it?
I lost count.
Speaking up, My confessions,
Of my self-doubts,
The burdens of life,
What weighed me down,
The harshness of reality,
The heaviness of responsibility,
The hopelessness of stagnation,
And the encroachment of fear!
I wrote a letter,
About this darkness,
Of how it took over.
Left feeling unworthy of tomorrow,
How I battled weakness,
Only dreamt of being strong.
Gold, I touched, turned into dust,
Opportunities crumpled at my fingertips,
Failed by dear self,
I gave up!
Haunted every day,
Resigned to the idea,
That its sweet release is the only way out!
So many ideas,
Of how I can take this life.
Oh, the unthinkable!
Never to be seen again,
Gone forever!
I wondered,
If I called it quits,
What would become of you?
My loved one!
Thus,
In the ideations,
I write you a letter.
Picturing how you would find it,
Going through it,
Feeling my pain,
Sympathizing,
And understanding why?
I saw you feel pity for me.
‘He had a burden,
One he could not bear,
At least he is resting now.’
‘He will face it no longer,
It is over,
It will not get to him,
He is out!’
‘May God have mercy on his soul,
Empathise with the reasons he did this,
Understand why he did it,
And embrace him in the heavenly realms!’
In another light,
You found it,
And as you read through,
Shock coursed through your veins.
You were rooted there,
in utter disbelief,
Angered by me.
‘You made the choice!’
‘Why should I live with it?’
‘Burden myself with your cowardice?’
‘You’re so selfish!’
‘Who told you that you deserve to die?’
‘Did you think of the consequence of it?’
‘When you’ve forced this on us?’
‘How am I to accept this?’
‘Be at peace,
And cry no more!’
‘It is a shame there might probably be a grave in hell,
With your name on it!’
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