Traumatised

Image Source: Keith R. Wilson

Think this and whatnot. Put this person in a bin that keeps appearing during my bed-time. Play a mellifluous, easy-on-the-ear, and a soothing music, with birds chirping and singing harmoniously in the background. The impious act that I committed years ago, still comes back after me. Delete it for ever and ever.

Woke up, and that horrendous scenario still makes my heart ponder. My head feels weighted and my body is jaded. I lost my appetite. I pray. I dance. I cry. Nothing works. What should I do? Hope I could’ve controlled my cerebrum.

Feels like the brain is operating the whole body. As a bird that bobs up and down like a marionette. It likes to fly to the thorny side of the world. It shows a glimpse of amusement to normalise the heartbeats, just to make us realise that we were hoodwinked, again.

Let your hair down, the journey is never-ending. The situation has been created and the creator is your bloody self. You gave away access to your inner world to a wrong person. It is like giving Dracula, the keys to the blood-bank. Neither it stops preying on my mind, nor it prefers to have mercy on me. It was just a human-error. A tiny piece of error.

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