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Summiaya Nilofer Kichloo


My cheeks have started to hurt from the smiles I wear all day, trying to hide the cuts and scars that threaten to peek out, every time. Someone asks me how I'm doing. My eyes have grown tired of holding all the secrets inside, ready to spill out every piece of the scattered mess that I am, as tears or blood, when I run out of my "I'm fine" lies, someday. Everyday I hope for someone to pull my mask away, and stare right at the core, where I sit curled up into a ball, in the corner of my mind, trying to get away from my own thoughts and feelings. Everyday, I hope for someone to tear through the pretense around me, find me inside, hold my hand and, take me away, to some place far. but every night, when I'm still there, alone, I hug myself, cradle my soul, and go back to sleep, with the screams and shrieks as my lullabies. © Summiaya Nilofer Kichloo

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