You probably need an internal revolt;

Every cell up in arms against your colonisers;

Declaring a battle against that ex

Whose memory has chained you;

Whose built his palace on your ruins;

Maybe you need to scream your war cry

Against that ‘friend’ who feeds glass to your misery;

You need to set up a guerilla trap

Against your anxiety;

Giving it a taste of its own medicine.

You need to draw your battle lines

Sometimes against yourself;

That version which conspires to bring you down;

Every minute. Every second.

You need freedom;

You need a war;

And sometimes you’ll be the soldier

Or the enemy;

But better to try;

Than to live the illusion of independence.


Moving on.

Moving on…

These two words, simple as they seem, hold various connotations for different people. To some it could mean going away from a particular person whereas to others it might mean letting go a part of life. As I said, it seems similar, but there is a lot of subjectivity here. A friend’s story shed more light on the complexities revolving around moving on. Here it is:  Continue reading