NOSTALGIA— Yearning of Reminiscence

Monthly Issue — November 2021

A daydream unwrapped like an 80’s movie, a startling consciousness of a neglected soul with high hopes. The strangling high expectation,
I hope you know, Mom, I will be better than tomorrow day.
Offer me the deathless death, they proudly call ‘adulthood’
You don’t mount a house, where the bones aren’t good.
You don’t make a better man, from a disintegrated drenched childhood.

The parents played with the ferocious egoist giants, I mend my paper dolls and believed there is a better world to be self-reliant. There’s still the crisis, a vacuum, so you try to bury it within self-consciousness and resentment. Be my rope, watch me till I’m hanging from the tree. With too many opinions and too few options, he promised a lifetime and killed the innocent in me. I know, everyone thinks I got everything figured out, cause I walk with my head in the clouds. I am just a girl stitching the ripped-on heart, as it is pouring out.

Aren’t we all trying our very best, holding our breath a second long, to get over it, to let it pass away? Is it hope that makes us weaker or stronger?

How nostalgic!