Tongue Of Voiceless

By Neeharika Mishra

The rest of my life, I've turned to nothing 

Except a monotonous monologue, 

Perching on unwary thoughts. 

Toddlers like feet, I can't run in race 

Tongue has teeth, couldn't grate,

I am bizarre of glasses crushed 

Avoided by all to not step upon. 

I am dumped in a deserted den 

Or perhaps I've shuffled myself to it 

To not be in sight of normalisation. 

It's cut me deep, too dark since decades 

I swim in the same pool of blood. 

But still a hope arises in my counts 

For you to not touch my atrocious self. 

All my ages, I tried to muster up

And speak to you like others do, 

But I stall at the route of articulation. 

Ways find me boring midst lores of chimes 

I too am fed up by my very act, 

I too want to be another you 

For you to see me the way I do. 

I have tried my garnished throat out, 

But I have failed in the stairs of attempts 

I've failed to be a normal human. 

So, I have disappeared in appearance 

From every presence of every one, 

And glance at the world from distance 

I tried to change, but couldn't. 

By Neeharika Mishra