And sometimes, as you stand alone

Naked in a steamless bathroom;

You realise that there’s nowhere else to hide.

All the hurt you turned into anger

Simply because of being “as mad as hell.”

It is better than wallowing in pain.

When that fake anger vanishes,

You try yet another trick.

You hide

Behind as much humour as you possibly can.

Then the night comes.

Darkness knows no jokes.

The dead still quietness brings you back to you.

And you cry at the sight

Of the reflection in the mirror.


All alone.

Because no one likes a complainer.


No one likes you when you lose.

I itch for the day

Memories just become memories.

Just pictures

From some time ago.

Just seasons and times

Which were meant to come and go.

In my own place to stay

I was not only looking for a shelter.

I was looking

For four walls covered in peace of mind.

A place of care and rest.

A place called home.

A place where no one can chase me out.

What is ugly is

To be mistreated by people who were ill-treated.

They will ruin you beyond recognition

And still, feel very proud of themselves

Because “You’re so lucky they didn’t do you how they were done.”

Does everyone have secret tears in the silence of the night?