There she sat at the end of a broken pavement at the violet shaking dusk; triedly murmuring about how she did not want the world to remember her for who she used to be, about how she wanted to erase the past that so defined the details of her inglorious life on this planet. She watched the tress and it’s grand silhouette, she wanted to be a tree. She watched the bees and birds, flee to their nest with a day full of hardwork, she wanted to be a bird. She watched the sky that has so beautifully homed the earth for eons and never got tired, she wanted to be the sky. She watched the sun setting down the hill, promising another beginning with every beautiful end. She wanted to sink underneath the soil and never retaliate the arms that failed to hold her or rise back to walk on the ground with a dream of being someone better than ever. And that was me, the girl who had everything and yet had nothing of her own. The girl who wanted to be anything and everything existing everywhere, expect she didn’t want to be herself.
Maybe, she is young
but she is rather an antique vase;
fragile and held by a glue
because it once broke and couldn’t look beautiful.
Maybe, she is volumes of masterpiece
with unread and unwanted thesis,
waiting to be forgotten and burned for good.
But don’t let them tell you
that she is just an unwary droplet.
She is an ocean.
And oceans have depths, discernments
mankind can’t fathom.
She doesn’t await for change
she changes a world when she touch it.
Even if all she only wanted
was to be a part of that world
or be a small river flowing far away
without dream or a fear.
But she was born as an ocean.
A broken antique among the modern monuments,
confined in her own legacy.