I wrote a poem once and it didn’t rhyme
I thought I didn’t know how to write
It was only later that I realized what I had written
It was not enveloped in those phony words
It did not show the struggle of changing lines to match
What I had written… was raw
And I did this because what happened to me was raw
Because the only words which rhymed with my fear were Near and Dear
Like my predator
There was no rhythm in his hands when he groped me
There was only hurry
For me fury rhymed with hurry.
Or so I thought because that was the closest emotion for which I could find a word for
He knew my fears because he was near… and dear
It pained me at places I never knew could hurt so bad.
Though as a consolation he used to brush my hair in the end
I always cried when I wanted something bad.. be it a toy or a chocolate..
But for the first time I cried because I didn’t want.. what you were giving me.. DAD
See it rhymed there.. Bad and Dad.. Like my fear.. Near and Dear..
When I read that poem again
I had flashbacks of that pain.
At that time I hated myself because I did not know what to say
And now when I found the courage to write
I hated myself because I didn’t know that perfect line.
I hated myself because I didn’t know how to make my struggle RHYME…
PS: Image credit google : thequint.com