Suppressed Cries

7 am tolls.
Oh, it’s another morning.
Is it?
No.

 

Well,
How will you know?

 

Brush your teeth,
Gather your covers,
Dress up,
Show a smiling face to the mirror,
See yourself.
Are you conscious?
No.

 

Welcome to another day.
All laced up,
Following the track,
Without any variation,
Without any change,
Like it was drawn,
Back there in times.

 

Walk.
Wait.
Walk.
Take a glimpse of your social life,
Meeting persons,
No.

 

Staring at veils,
Multiple layers.

 

Type.
Tap.
Type.
Share with them your stories,
Are they real?
Is it what it is?
No.

 

Connecting with screens.
Living with its elements.

 

Swirl around,
Round.
Round.
And round.
Among a thousand of people,
Talk work,
Talk money,
Talk love,
Talk lust,
Talk fantasies,
Talk dreams,
Talk gossips,
Talk stories,
Are they real?
Or, is it what it needs to be?

 

Hearing their stories,
Blurting them yours,
Do you get them?
Do they get you?
No.

 

Calling it a talk,
Saying it a moment,
Did you ever really go through?
No.

 

Roam around,
Wanderlust,
As you state it,

 

Click.
Cling.
Click.
‘At last peace.’
‘Lived the moment.’
‘At cloud nine’
Did you?
Are you?
No.

 

‘Living your dreams.’
‘Following your passion.’
‘Striving.’
‘Thriving.’
Aren’t they too heavy for a phrase?
Yes, my grace.

 

Wandering all day,
Scrolling all night.

 

Tick.
Tock.
Tick.
Does it ring any bell to you?

 

Oh, yes,
Another task pending in a while,
Another list to go through riled,
Another state needs to be changed,
Another level needs to be managed.

 

12 am.
Staring your face on the screen again,
Mirror this time.
Oh, you have got nothing in your eyes,
Neither hay nor straw
But yes, a lot more behind.
A hidden cry.

 

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