Lost And Found

You still petrify me like ever. When a good-natured human commits the slightest of sins, they say, he is to greet, with open arms, all kinds of rotten visitations. Inconvenience, the least of the dire visitants, commences to find solace in his mind and soul that he, sad to say, would know not the road out to a lesser degree of soreness. You got your own tricks of vengeance and I, still to this day, endeavour to put back the pieces I looted to quench my thirst for bits of your liking but prithee, pardon my unmastery of self-defiance. I envisioned, one day or another, you’d retire from prosecuting me for yearning to possess certain parts of you, but little do people like me know, we’ve always been the mastermind of our delusions.

Unconsciously, and not that I admired living it; I engineered many hallucinations of you. You petrify me but I also petrify me. The mere what-if, which puts me in charge of the unbearable agony I compelled myself to undergo, messes with my sanity. I could have saved myself the sweat I poured unstoppably in fear of coming eye to eye with you; the embarrassment of faint-heartedness; it all. I already loathe me, yet I know I’d loathe me more if this doesn’t carry me into piling up all that I happen to take for granted as irremediable –in a box to cast down into the utmost depths of nihility...