Yank the door to my heart open,

It's hard for me to do it by myself

As the walls I built years ago

Refuse to lower down.
They refuse to let me breathe.

My heart is like a guitar with no strings,

The melodious music is long gone now

There is a cavity in my heart

Waiting to be filled with something
Dangerous yet completely safe.

The silence speaks to me,

With a distorted voice, 

As if spoken by monsters and goblins
As if the demons under my bed are now
Inside my own head.

The words they are screaming
They don't make sense to me
I need a translator
And an escape from reality.

- Isha Sharma

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