I am jealous.
Of all those who can let go of their emotions easily…
Some in words, art or music.
Of all those who are able to freely express what they feel
In talks and songs.
But I can’t.
Whenever I start writing
It gets too whiny and sad that even I cant take it.
I can’t sing
But there are songs that make my heart ache and weep.
I try to talk.. but always stop midway
People have their own worries
Why should I bother burdening them…
All I have is my eyes,
Which says it all.
Stories of lost smiles and hunger for happy days
Of suppressed pain and faked laughs.
But, who cares enough
To look into it and say
“Its okay, things will turn to better”
“You are not alone and I am here with you.”
Who cares that much?