When I sit alone, 

I am actually not alone. 

I am into my head, 

Conversing with people I never met. 

When I sit alone, 

I am actually not alone.

I am into my head.

Talking with people whom I briefly met. 

I prolong the conversation, 

That we could have had! 

I elongate the discussion that we never had! 

I teach them to surrender and I surrender myself to them.

That actually never happened, 

Because, lately the last thing I would like to do is to surrender. 

Surrender the self that I have built after storms.

Surrender my dignity that I have saved at the brink of fallout. 

Surrender the worth that I have carefully curated after the optimal loss, 

Surrender my beautiful mind that I have created after the chaos. 

I cannot even surrender my body that is yet to be built after ruining it all. 

I cannot surrender my breath that costs me so much- an image of a perfect bloom that I am on the verge of becoming,

After the devastating breakage and point of console. 

I was whole and alone.

I am alone and whole.

Still, I feel fragmented and lost. 

Still, I would not beg for my recovery from any begotten soul.

The ones who don’t know the melancholy of their soul, 

Who doesn’t understand the symphony of their own, 

Who don’t know which voice to follow, 

Which epiphany shall they call,

How are they going to rescue me when they are themselves lost?! 

I am an apocalypse in my own. 

I am an artifact hidden and lost. 

Probably, recovered. 

Or, suffering from the hang over from all the stressors.

All the accused are astonished.

They tell me, I am great because of their abuse.

But, I knew from the very begining, 

Abusers were not my destiny, 

I have defeated them,

I have defeated the monster.

©® Farheen Akter Bhuian Nancy 

Timestamp: 11 am, Officer’s mess