Samreen Chowdhury

Mental health

It’s just another night where my pillow is soaked with woeful tears.

It’s dark, muted and somber, relentlessly the tears lapse one by one with a meaning attached to every tear, quietly creating a strange rhythm sounding quite horror to bare. Motionlessly I grab the duvets with fuelled moist and aggression for the melancholy emotion to come to an end. I wish I were as brave as the rain because they are not afraid to fall, I’ve lost the courage and strength to make it to a victory. But here I’ll speak for the many figures who have lost voices just like me, you are not alone, and someday you’ll heal.