via Daily Prompt: Instinct
I don’t share my grief with people.
Call it instinct. Or call it pride.
Show of sympathy by others when I’m grieving is just that – a show. “I understand what you’ve been through…” No, you don’t. You are just trying to make me feel better, which I appreciate, but the words you speak are as genuine as Donald Trump’s tan.
When I’m grieving, leave me to myself. If you want to help, make a cup of tea.
Don’t give me the “There is a life after death”, “It was meant to be” bullshit. Please.
I may not be an adult, but that doesn’t mean you need to dumb down serious things like death for me. If it hurts, it hurts. No two ways about it.
I like my tablets like I like my words – without sugarcoating.
Today is International Peace Day, and the only question people are asking is whom I will make peace with. After five minutes of deliberation, I made up my mind. A person with whom I’m unforgiving. A person whom I bitterly ridicule. A person whom I look down upon. A person whom I blame whenever anything goes wrong. A person, who uncomplainingly fulfills my bidding, but remain unthanked for. I’ll make peace with that person.
I’m making peace with myself.
As you enter the world of intoxicating dreams.
Where happiness is free,
And you are there with me,
Away from this world of fear and cowardice.
Harsh, loud cries,
As you enter the cold world of death.
Which is dark and unknown,
But you are not alone,
Because I’ll be always by your side.
So we journey onward together,
While the world wishes us:
“Good night, sleep tight.”
As a sleepy slow response to Poetry 101 Rehab – Sleep.