غير مرئي

Lipstick stains on a white polyester shirt,

hard to clean the unholy off a sinner.

I’m no saint; I sat and watched my demons wreak havoc,

laughing while I numbed the pain.

Most of my life lived on autopilot—

it feels like I’m finally awakening

from a self-imposed nightmare.

Ruminating on the roots of aggression,

I wonder if it’s because no one truly listened.

I’ve stripped every mask I’ve ever worn,

and now I’m down to bare bones:

a soul and passing possessions.

©️hajithepoet

Are you truly content with what you have and where you are? The world may not always grant us our desires, but will *enough* ever feel like enough? The sun graces your skin freely—doesn’t it seem radical to simply sit with the wonders unfolding right before your eyes?