Saturday, August 13, 2011

The time poetry ran dry.

It is often that I do not care,
but that night presented a grim picture,
when assumptions were apprehended,
and distastes were spelled out.
While I bore the brunt of the animosity,
and I was slightly shriveled,
at how clear misunderstandings can be.
I smiled, and sobbed.
Clear, gurgled sobs.
Not unhappy.
Just misunderstood.
Presented as the picture of abhorrence,
I chose to stay mum.
And as I question the unfairness of it all,
the words that you so unleashed,
come back to me, like a gust of wind would,
and the sobs choose to appear,
and I'm left weak and insecure.


8 comments:

My Unfinished Life said...

hurt and insecurity..the two things that can drive the mind insane!!

Who is Mocca? Fashion Blog said...

thank you so much for your lovely comment! :)

great text!

divsi said...

nothins worst than bein misunderstud:((
so aptly put!!!

Anonymous said...

lovely poem. expressed inside from deep heart

Blasphemous Aesthete said...

Misunderstandings, they are such a pain. Leave us with no scope of rebuttal or proof.

Beautiful post.


Cheers,
Blasphemous Aesthete

Meghana said...

"I was slightly shriveled,
at how clear misunderstandings can be."

Amazing.

<3

Sam said...

Heya, I like.
no, kinda love. :)

aakash said...

beautiful. :)
you sure speak a heart out Meher.

aJ