Sometimes it’s not even us who push people away,
It is but the demons that are lurking in our closets,
They find a way out from our lost characters,
And isolate us from our loved ones,
Cage us in our angry selves,
The stench of fury keeps everyone afar,
We cannot reach out,
Our egoes get an upper hand and they tie ours,
Our shoulders turn cold, all the heat fades away,
Then we confine ourselves within our griefs,
The happy faces we keep are nothing but a facade
That will soon crumble down,
When we shed a tear,
We blame it on onions because they can’t speak
For themselves, they are forever found guilty
Of the anguish they didn’t cause,
Because we feel good when we blame other people,
As if it’s them who open the doors and let our demons out,
Yet it’s us who give them keys to get under our skin,
We give them authority to dictate our emotions,
When our demons have woken up,
They call them our true colours,
But darkness is not the colour, it is but the absence of colour,
So how can something that is not there be the definition of us,
Perhaps we’ve made peace with people defining us,
Such that we forget that we are red and blue – love and peace,
When we find the strength to calm our demons,
And our eyes open up to see the damage they caused,
When there’s no one beside us,
Guilt paralyses us thereafter,
We can’t find the courage to humble ourselves
Before those we did wrong,
We prejudge them, that they might not find it,
Not even in the corner of their hearts to forgive us,
For we think that they believe it was intentional,
But it was the demons that took over,
Said and did things we vowed never to say and do,
But we can’t blame it on our demons, can we?
They are a part of us, it is a yin and a yang.