Though I can’t stretch my lips, my words still have a smile. Time is getting rougher to make me tougher, but I mistook of painting it only on my exterior surface. Coconut breed human’s huddle is today’s reality. You can’t bring on face, the inner you and are forced to masquerade a perfect presentable look. My tolerance level, my fake smile is now my success level, the level of my happiness and a cherished platform for every innocent kid who is still unbeknownst about this fake world. I know that I cry, the time I fail to hide, when my caliber fall short in lifting the load of thoughts, the thoughts that run my body and ruin it too.
My lips lack elasticity, can’t stretch it now, my heart already broken, can’t break it now. Forced to be mature, when I was eleven and I’d just learnt; how to spell the ‘heaven’. The impolite lessons, you inflicted on me, did you ever noticed my trembling body? You attacked my soul; aimed to cut my wings, put a rein on my speed. I was forced to follow, a path already created, the ideal one, per your mindset. Was anyone bothered about my dreams; did anyone paid any attention to my hobbies, cared where my interest was? No, a big no! I was thrown in this rat race, like everyone else, misguided from my real goals. Dreary cum crowded platform, I survive here somehow, drew my career path with misty signs.
I’m successful now, only for this world, not for myself! Burdened internally with complaints, now I realized; survival was never my goal. Don’t know how to switch, impractical too; options left behind, it’s a one way now. It’s a world filled with criticizers not helpers so here history has to be a mystery. I preferred to be silent with the pent up scream that making an effort to peep out of my heart. I won over this fight but lost the real battle, battle of my choices, battle to feel free, living life in own defined way. But as we call, entry needs an exit, my frustration too. A unique path, I discovered, routing it through my passion, this turned out to be a great motive, a ladder to raise my hopes, alacrity to win. It’s helpful but not absolute, still under pressure, but I’ve got a way to fight.
I sometimes cry like an insane, burn like shoving the pain; walking against the flow, though bit slow. I smile a lot, only through my words, as I know, the only way of this public, me to judge. I will be back on track, someday, somehow but stretching my lips to smile, don’t know how, for now.