AMEETHYST

Quiet, gentle breeze, tells you stories as it is. Sitting on the bench, watching the sunset, you silently smile, and your eyes get wet. Yes, just a little moist, because you’re a man. Sobbing doesn’t suit you, so scream as loudly as you can. Well, not out loud, keep it down, internalize. You’ve got a family to raise, not your voice. You can’t afford a meltdown, businesses will be in loss. You may be the man in your house, but outside, there’s a line you just can’t cross. Sure, you can have your days, some happy hours maybe. Chug it up, but don’t crave a hug. And miraculously, if you get one, don’t let the floodgates open. Who knows what demons you’ve been hoarding. Unleash your chaos elsewhere. It’s a man’s world, HAA! For namesake. Yeah! Kill all that’s good left in him, so only nothingness remains. He won’t speak, he won’t cry, he won’t live, neither can he die. Is that a blessing or a curse? For better or worse, he’s still trying.

Promptly expelled out of your mom’s belly, your journey into the unknown starts on the note of melancholy. Bad to the bone you turn into a menace, a rebel, an emotional scapegoat. Slowly, you turn red in love, become a mad romantic. The drama makes you drop-dead heretic. You get employed, your mental health, destroyed. Caught up in a vicious trap, bamboozled by vapid crap, you tighten the noose around your neck, wondering what the heck could have saved your voice, because every time you spoke your mind, you became a curse to the humankind. “Look at me, Mom! I’ve swallowed the storm. I’m spinning in circles, wrecking my own home. If you’re thinking how you could’ve stopped the chaos, you could’ve just taken a day off to look into my barren eyes, deprived, desolated, of a normal paradise, hoping that one day you would hug me so tight, all the darkness within me would be scared of my starlight.” That’s all I had to say.

When I am gone, no soul would cry only the ones that would, do because I failed to try and make them proud. I let down a thousand people who poisoned my heart and hoped I survived. I am now burning in the pyre, with woods that got no fire. The fury of those I left behind are keeping the flames ablaze. Hope this counts as one of my best days where I am being watched till my brain explodes, then everyone would depart with my remains. To their surprise, for a nobody who did nothing they filled my ashes to the brim in an urn, hoping again that I would return, just to live yet another desolated life. I wish my tears were made of petrol, so when you ignited me for the last time, the explosion would kill my soul too, so that there’s nobody like me reborn.