The world grew up on her
Not knowing the truth
A drained soul she was
Tired of pretending to be happy
Of faking self-love
Of over-loving others
Was it even worth the ache
Not even a slightest bit
But there she was
Hoping everything would work out
Nuances of everything
Perturbed her soul in all possible forms
She nurtured her wounds
Got up every single day
After passing out
This feeling of self-doubt
Never really left her
It was always there in the back
A dark entity
How could she ever get rid of it?
Perhaps never
Perhaps the entity was supposed to be locked off
In a room empty, filled with positivity
Locked on the outside
Never allowed to leave
She pondered upon its possibility
But didn’t give it a try
Why should she
It didn’t promise anything
Why work on it
When you probably won’t gain from it
Alas! The human tendency
To think of gaining on all terms
Is it even a gift to be human?
Perhaps, no
She knew nothing
Nor did anyone else
At last, she was alone
Fighting her own demons
Demons, who latched itself on her
She needed to be freed
Needed to be freed
Battling all alone
A warrior she was