Untitled beauty~ What colours me a flaming red? Of me, when my voice is subdued in the noises that only screech to overwhelm me. The screeches don't bother me. It isn't the noise that overwhelms me. It's my inability to put out my words, that seem to entangle in my throat and form a lump stucking midway, and how my plead to just be listened and understood just for once go unheard. My emotions which I bottled in me deep down stirs and that overwhelms me with a fear that the cap might come off and I'll drown in my own flood. When I can't seem to place my foot in the correct tile despite careful considerations and I stumble at every step, slowly mixing my wish to go forward into the void that my heart guests. Of people, when they only make fickle promises like a well crafted porcelain ceramic only to smash it into pieces behind my back. I have seen many ceramics being held in front of me to be admired, I have the crumbles of many ceramics piled up in the corner. Pretending to be what they are not, maybe I'm innocent enough to trust people blindly, maybe they are clever enough to make me trust them, but in the end the ceramics surely crumble, and I am left with their shards settling deep in me. What makes me to wrap myself in black and drown in my indigo?
