Two lovely children... Can a woman yet be unfulfilled? A woman is idealised to be an epitome of patience, perseverance, love and all other good things. If I do not have any or none of these then Iam not a good natured woman...?! I sleep and wish to never wake up, never to see their faces again. I feel burdened to interact with them, their hypocritical preachings are like a bad piece of music I can't shut off. These years of marriage have made me into someone I have never even thought of being.
I had long given up of his parents. His mother talking to me with her sweetness... Oh have I fallen into her trap so often. Yet I do not learn her tricks. There have been days I've not wanted to get out of bed after a whole night of crying. And yet I have dragged myself up to the call of duties.
This time I really wish I could turn back time to the time I wasn't married. I wasn't bound in chains and shackled. All this time I believed he would do something and be my rescuer. I stand here as the glass shatters on me, hurting me in a million places, bleeding me and yet my tears are colorless. There are so many different ways of breaking trust in someone. And this is one painless pain I suffer. I know I cannot run anywhere, I cannot let go. I want to. I wish my head just implodes. My tears would not stop. The hurt is so confusing. I cannot pick on one thing. And he sits there thinking that he is the one hurt by my words. Actions hurt more than words! Surrounded by people, I want to run as far away as possible. I can't let my angels hurt. I put them through my suffering too. Why? I ask myself. I cannot leave them. This house feels like a bomb ready to explode on me. It has, so many times. And each time I break into a million pieces and God puts me together again and again as if to make me up for the next explosion. This time feels a little different though. I think The jigsaw has a few pieces missing. The pieces that gave me life. I find smiles on these two innocent pairs of lips. And I blame myself for birthing them and putting locks around their necks and mine. Why did I stay then when I had the chance to run free. Was I optimistic or was I a fool to hope for sunshine. In love, people give their lives up. What have I given? And in return am I asking to too much? When waiting for each other starts to feel like a stopped clock, the love in it turns to dust.
I had long given up of his parents. His mother talking to me with her sweetness... Oh have I fallen into her trap so often. Yet I do not learn her tricks. There have been days I've not wanted to get out of bed after a whole night of crying. And yet I have dragged myself up to the call of duties.
This time I really wish I could turn back time to the time I wasn't married. I wasn't bound in chains and shackled. All this time I believed he would do something and be my rescuer. I stand here as the glass shatters on me, hurting me in a million places, bleeding me and yet my tears are colorless. There are so many different ways of breaking trust in someone. And this is one painless pain I suffer. I know I cannot run anywhere, I cannot let go. I want to. I wish my head just implodes. My tears would not stop. The hurt is so confusing. I cannot pick on one thing. And he sits there thinking that he is the one hurt by my words. Actions hurt more than words! Surrounded by people, I want to run as far away as possible. I can't let my angels hurt. I put them through my suffering too. Why? I ask myself. I cannot leave them. This house feels like a bomb ready to explode on me. It has, so many times. And each time I break into a million pieces and God puts me together again and again as if to make me up for the next explosion. This time feels a little different though. I think The jigsaw has a few pieces missing. The pieces that gave me life. I find smiles on these two innocent pairs of lips. And I blame myself for birthing them and putting locks around their necks and mine. Why did I stay then when I had the chance to run free. Was I optimistic or was I a fool to hope for sunshine. In love, people give their lives up. What have I given? And in return am I asking to too much? When waiting for each other starts to feel like a stopped clock, the love in it turns to dust.
