panoramic tales

“I’m surrounded by broken-hearted people.
Pretty pieces.
Pieces of people.

These sharp shards of souls left,
Abandoned, unrequited, cheated.
Like glasses of a widow’s bangles
Shining of the days of colour,
In colour blood,
In blood.

They still do look bright
They smile
They look so normal.
So real, so alive
That somehow even I believe their cover.
I don’t look underneath
And underneath all
It’s all apart.
It’s all a cave.

Caving to be loved again.
Loved wholly, solely.
Loved, only.

Authors note: This poem is a portion of what I felt when I saw one of my classmates cry. He always seemed to be living a perfect life, he was popular, intelligent, always calm,  composed and everything. You know, like one of those people you can’t imagine having real life issues, he was that flawless. When I watched him break down and pour out all his problems to me, it was almost like my illusions of perfection broke down with it. You see, we all are broken in some way. Hence, always surrounded by broken people and that’s perfectly okay. That’s normal.


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