Pain sears through the crevices of my heart,
Determined to break me apart.
It roars through its emptiness, cold and bare,
Like wind through an abandoned house somewhere.
No, I don't romanticize pain;
But memories still remain.
Like a vestigial organ, no longer used,
My heart keeps shrinking, repeatedly bruised.
They ask me, "Why do you write?"
I say, "It lets some of the pain take flight."
With every word, my heart bleeds a little more,
Emptying what it can no longer store.
Sometimes I wonder if I'm a misfit,
Trying to mend what will never quite fit.
But being alone is a powerful place;
One day, it will help me heal.
Not because time erases every scar,
But because it teaches us who we are.
They say tough times don't last; tough people do.
One day, this pain will leave me too.
And when that day finally comes along,
I'll find a version of me that's strong.
Not untouched, not the same as before,
But stronger than I was ever was before.
The cracks will stay, but they won't define me.
They'll simply remind me where I've been.
I'll write not because I'm falling apart,
But because words first carried my heart.
And when I read these pages one day,
I'll smile, knowing the pain found its way.
That day I'll rise untouchable and new,
The pain will remain a scar, that I conquered and grew.
Niharika Prasad
