It takes tremendous courage to write about things that bother. Remember, sometime back I wrote about that tightness of the heart. Today, it almost killed me that I thought it was a chest pain to kill me. I can't control them, my tears. They just keep falling, pitter patter - the rain sounds within.
After all that is over, I mix up all my love and hate into a chocolate cake batter, lick the batter off my fingers, and bake it - my chocolate sorrow, baked in my small yellow bowl. And as I dip my spoon into the moistness of the cake, I almost know that it was really the salt of my tears that made it soft, and the hate in my heart is what made it brown.
I am still a child at heart, right?
The demons, haunt and taunt - but my fearlessness, that beautiful facade that I have created around me, shivers and trembles. Then runs away, taking the cloak of strength with it.
All I can do then is to bake, that brown moist cake - I can almost taste the salt.
After all that is over, I mix up all my love and hate into a chocolate cake batter, lick the batter off my fingers, and bake it - my chocolate sorrow, baked in my small yellow bowl. And as I dip my spoon into the moistness of the cake, I almost know that it was really the salt of my tears that made it soft, and the hate in my heart is what made it brown.
I am still a child at heart, right?
The demons, haunt and taunt - but my fearlessness, that beautiful facade that I have created around me, shivers and trembles. Then runs away, taking the cloak of strength with it.
All I can do then is to bake, that brown moist cake - I can almost taste the salt.
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