When melancholy speaks, the whispering gets louder and louder, ignoring the sound will only make it more vigorous. That voice is the only voice that speaks to me now, the only voice I hear, the only voice I want to hear, and I find myself in it. The voices are mostly nothing but meaningless noise. The mask I hide behind keeps on slipping, keeps on slipping, it has been heavy, it keeps on slipping and the fight to keep it on all day is tough! But now the mask is finally off. A blanket of silence sinking its teeth into my throat. One cannot know what silence is if there was no noise!
The growing need is rising like a wave, teasing and prodding to be fed, and food doesn’t fill the emptiness inside me anymore. Nothing seems to satisfy my deepest desire.
A night to myself, alone with my thoughts, basking in my own existence, seeking solace, lost in confined space, listening to songs on my iPhone; music leads me to the greatest possible solitude. I enjoy isolation, and I’m not the only one. Alone.. I’d be better off! People, friends and relationships are very confusing! Humans … they leave pain wherever they go! Wherever they go!
A crime scene … I stared dully at the desolate cadaver … A strange face in the mirror exclaiming in dismay at my appearance; how I look, how I talk, how I walk, and how I smile. A pale face and puffy eyes staring right back at me trying to antagonise me …
Sometimes you bury that part of yourself so deeply that you have to be reminded that its there at all. And sometimes you want to forget who you are altogether!
Things I feel but rather not share with anyone. I shut everyone out! I shut them all out because I’m afraid they wont like what they’d see!
Trapped in the clutches of painful memories and dark thoughts. Everyone hides behind his mask if not masks … At times I wish that the truth was more easily accessible.
Dark viciously eats its way through the light. stifled …The noose is tightening … A second turned to a minute, a minute turned to ten … I don’t feel safe unless my back was against the wall! Its like I cease to exist outside of these cold walls!
Trapped inside of my own head, not knowing whether I’m awake, sleeping, or dead.
Days and nights pass me by and I still find myself sitting here … Every night I curl up like a cocktail shrimp in the same damn corner, alone … I tune everything out.
Trembling fingers. Talking to myself …
Now its just about getting through the day without crying.
And I’m scared … Im scared that I’m not myself in here, in this cold world. Im nor human or a beast … Im something new entirely. Its been with me ever since, my dark passenger.
Sameera Alshaikh's Other Poems
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (DOA (Prose) by Sameera Alshaikh )
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
Harold Hart Crane
(21 July 1899 – 27 April 1932)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(25 November 1890 – 1 April 1918)
(30 December 1865 – 18 January 1936)
(6 January 1878 – 22 July 1967)
(1886 - 1967)
(7 May 1861 – 7 August 1941)
- If, Rudyard Kipling
- The Road Not Taken, Robert Frost
- Still I Rise, Maya Angelou
- Daffodils, William Wordsworth
- Tonight I can write the saddest lines, Pablo Neruda
- Ranga Duniya ne Dkhaya hai Nirala, Kumar Vishwas
- Fire and Ice, Robert Frost
- Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night, Dylan Thomas
- Television, Roald Dahl
- A Poison Tree, William Blake
Poem of the Day
- Enjoying Conversations, RoseAnn V. Shawiak
- How Long A Breath of Moment Be...(r), Frank James Ryan Jr...FjR
- Communicating Through Talent, RoseAnn V. Shawiak
- Moments Of Refreshing Writing, RoseAnn V. Shawiak
- God., Th@ We N0t, sEaN nOrTh
- only Dfence against a rhythm - Boi, sEaN nOrTh
- Snuggle 2, Michael P. McParland
- ROAD FROM PARIS 1970, Terry Collett
- '' O '', Frank James Ryan Jr...FjR
- Short and Sweet, Brittany Veloso