im feeling lacerated and torn apart. im being torn apart because i have no idea what to do. the cuts are getting deeper, the blood, redder. and somehow, i do not know whether i should go where my heart desires or refrain because of the impurities that uglify it, rendering it so...contaminated. why? why does he have to be here when i need him not? he has taken my life, flayed my senses and undermined any sense of authority i had over myself. but still shreds remain, c linging on like the loose tendons cling to the bone after all is gone. i have gone through hell and what hasnt killed me has made me stronger. but i cannot submit myself to his twisted yet perfect world. the stinging will go on. i am afraid. i am afraid that i would have to play a waiting game. how long more? when i am twenty? older? i have to wait. i am yet a sapling but i have grown on whethered and dry soil. soil meant for a cactus, not a mere sapling. he is a good debator, and his sheer ruthlessness makes him legendary. but he is not coveted. it would be a more appropriate description of my thoughts if i am to say that he is to be cast away i cannot wait until i can cast him away to a cellar in my mind where he would stay locked up forever. how fantastical. such a phenomena would never take place in reality. i would say that i am stronger now. yet, even then, i am not strong enough. i cannot take him on. for if i did, i would not only fling myself into all his wrath. i would submit her too. and him. i cannot afford to lose them to him. i can sense poison in his words and fire in his speech. i am scorched and yet, i am alive. i will live. i will be who i am. i will improve myself . i can detect the subtle threats and hidden motives in his voice. i have been trained for years with punishment that is painful and my only reward being survivalto sense them anyway. then when the years have been spent and when the moon is full and when the clouds stare with their throats choked, then, i will have what i want. the rusty gates will scream open. until then i wait. but i am not passive. neither am i asleep. i am improving myself. i am making myself stronger,smarter,tougher. i cannot live as his shadow or as his legacy. i am crouching; tensed. soon i will pounce. and sparks will fly to set the forest ablaze.
okay im done spewing my dark motives or whatever you percieve it to be. please, everybody, leave your comments. am going to get someone to get me a tagboard. anyway, what about that Ritika name? has anyone found the meaning out? please do help out. anyway, LingYing, i have no secret. just write whatever comes to your mind. a poem is supposed to be beautiful and what is more beautiful than the mind? thanks Sarita for commenting. yeah sure ill tell you about the encyclopaedia after reading it.
i wait; i wait.
for the red torn gates
i can see the latch
and the hole
and i have hatched
within my mind,
a key
Im waiting
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