There's always Hope

My little brother once said, 

‘You should really hate the voices in your head’ 

I smile and get lost in thought 

As I go back to stare at the ceiling 

The blue wall scattered with red paint 

How do I tell him, 

I’ve not found something as intriguing  

As the emptiness that comes along

With the voices on the ceiling

A plain wall evolving into different shapes

Yet resonating one emotion – a numbness 

A feeling I thought I wasn’t home to anymore

How do I tell him, 

I think about the days I’ve almost said something

Almost. 

How different my life would’ve been 

Those lost words , the unrejected silence 

An impending doom, a longing memory 

A subtle desperation, a hopeless future 

A spinning wheel, a blank space

A feeling foreign yet so familiar 

How do I call him for help, 

To help it stop 

Before this unnamed disease runs its course through my veins 

And reeks my heart of vile

And stains my eyes in monochrome

But how do I tell him , 

The voices are a part of me

Like a layer of skin that I am unable to shed 

How do I tell him, 

There’s no hate to a friend that overstayed their welcome

There’s no hate to something that belongs to me.

It is my burning home. Raging with fire all around me. It burned me alive. But amidst all this, the white flower on the vase, stood. The petals witnessing horror in silence and withering its beauty to soothe me. Still they remain fresh in peace. My quarrels with my own mind and heart, it could never be that easy. The green stalk is delusional. It makes me paranoid. I can never find grey in this place. It is all bright with light making the end even more darker, reminding me that you are something in everything.

Hope, they say is a magic potion, but where is hope? There is always a change in perspective when you lose something. But what happens when you constantly lose things, what happens when you lose things that could’ve been bigger, what happens when you lose things that were never yours in the first place, what happens when you perpetually lose yourself. Do you lose hope along with it too or hope that this profound yet invisible hope will bring you better than what’s lost ? Tell me what sort of madness do we live in.