Sitting by the window, I figured one night that I wasn’t very strong.
Because I couldn’t sleep calmly after doing even the slightest of wrong.
I keep tossing up in bed thinking my words might have really hurt.
Yet I see some people walk with their heads held high after turning other’s lives to dirt.
For once, I want to hear the stories they tell themselves to make it alright.
How they still sparkle in the day and sleep peacefully at night?
How they get rid off of all the remorse and not feel even the slightest of guilt?
How they live after knocking over the house of dreams someone else has built?
For once, I want to peep into the windows to their hearts and minds.
To know where is the person who was once so compassionate and kind?
To know where is this confidence still coming from?
To know where were you hiding all this time, while you created this storm?
For once, I want to smell the air they live in around now.
I want to know what else their conscience can allow?
I want to know what inspires them to take these cruel decisions?
What makes them lose the path of love and walk towards cynicism?
For once, I want to touch those beautiful, firm hands.
Who would have thought they were capable of breaking these dreamy castles of sand?
Who knows what they say now when they raise their hands for a prayer?
Who knows the ones who swear to protect also become the destroyer?
I have stopped looking for answers now because there seems to be none.
With each passing day they have just rendered me numb.
My only mistake in this was that I used to believe I was special.
But they showed me I am very ordinary, easily replaceable.