Ramble 65: when you soothe yourself with poems; spoken word poetry

Unanswered

A by-product of industry

It is not the horse driven chariots running away in the sky

Or the glass slippers from some contorted fantasy we call stories

That keeps me awake at night

It is the sound of my own scream, telling me that it cannot be

That it cannot be the way it was supposed to

Because they say so

Because I see so

Because eyes do not lie

And the world runs on five senses

And when they are intact, you understand and perceive how it is supposed to be

But my heart knows better

It is not how it is supposed to be

I am not how I am supposed to be

And some days I would have said sorry

Apologized like it was my birth duty

But today I would not flinch

Because they say so

Or because I see so

Because eyes do lie

And they are objects

And the world does not run on just five senses

Don’t you get it?

You are used to the sound of you screaming

It is like a slaughter house where the wail does not matter

And we are only the by-product of that industry

And it is only when the glass slipper breaks

That you realize you could have switched

But then it is too late

Because it is already midnight

And Cinderella can’t be out after twelve

Then they would tell you that we all need a Prince Charming

But the only Prince Charming a by-product needs is packaging

And the day I see more than horse driven chariots

And men in business armours

Is when I would no longer be a by-product of that industry

And I would no longer be packaged

Or hand wrapped.

They would throw me on the floor

And I would sleep at night

Without the screams of my own dissent bubbling in the cauldron of hypocrisy

And then, it would be

Like it was supposed to be.

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