Isolation.

A few stutters, he thinks, a few pauses, he blinks, the sweat left his forehead drenched,

The odour of fear, drifted ever so near, repulsed his mind with its revolting stench.

Waves of anxiety boosted by cans of anti depressants, crippled his soul with a million doubts,

Relentlessly haunted, by what exactly he wanted, taunted by questions and feverish bouts.

 

He replayed that day, when he thought it was okay to let out that one skeleton in his closet,

And one by one deserted by everyone, he went down the drain like water from a faucet.

His parents his only friends, who praise him to no end, for never ever giving in or breaking,

He tries to be gritty, yet wallows in self pity, no one understands what he’s been undertaking.

 

No one understands that with every step that he takes, everyone sees him in a different light,

No one cares that all he wants is to sleep, just once with his eyes closed throughout the night.

Tired of falling and all the name calling, of little kids telling him he’s a “man whore”

Of reading a new insult every single day, spray painted boldly across his locker door.

 

Incessantly pushed down to the floor, and told that is where ‘faggots’ like him deserved to be,

That the dusty end of leather shoes and a barrage of spitballs was all he was reserved to feel.

Of all the times he tried to get up, in a sea of homophobic kids who just wouldn’t lend a hand,

How could one soul with crushed knees and broken bones, suffer alone to take a stand?

 

Filled with regret that he ever decided to speak, he tries to convince himself it all makes sense,

Why being openly gay isn’t a sign of being weak, why happy and gay are used in the same sentence.

Of why he isn’t any different than most of us are, making decisions amid a sea of choices,

That he deserves to be a part of what we are, and not be swept aside by a tide of voices.

 

Until that day when the world gives him his place, he sits in a corner of his class by the day,

Constantly reminded by what exactly he’s binded, by the varying tones in which he’s called gay.

As the rest of his class started filtering in, he hears all the taunting and shouting start,

The tears and jeers were dampening his soul, once again tearing his insides apart.

The Meaning Behind.

The wind was blowing my cloak away, but I wasn’t the least bit bothered

The events of the past day were flashing by, it had left me firmly smothered.

Last afternoon before he left to board the flight, I had taken all my anger out

Let all my ire and emotions out in the open, leaving not a single shadow of doubt.

 

I was tired of being told what to do time and again, so I decided to make my case

Whatever frustrations lay dead and buried, had been revived when I saw his face.

“I’m just done being your son for now, all right?, I want to be the master of my own free will.

How will I learn to live and fight for tomorrow, if you keep me bound to the same old drill?”

 

“I swear I hate you like I hate hell Dad, I regret I didn’t stomp my foot down

Thanks for making me feel like a humiliated jerk, no better than a circus clown.”

I remember all that he did was turn around, and tiredly shake his head

His pale eyes gleamed right into mine, and this is what he said.

 

“I’m sorry if I hurt you in all these ways son, I promise I meant no pain

I’m sorry for the times I stressed you out, if you don’t forgive me I’ll ask again.

Thats when he turned around and closed the door, and everything went quiet

I went to swim in my pool of anger, all his theories.. I wouldn’t buy it.

 

And then my eyes grew really heavy, and they slowly drooped until they closed

I didn’t know how much time had passed, so much pressure it had posed.

Then I saw my cell phone slowly blinking, and I stretched my arm to reach

Saw “Message from Dad” on the screen, what did he have left now to preach?

 

But on impulse I pressed the read button, half of me not wanting to browse it

I decided if it got too lame and boring, I would just immediately douse it.

But as I read the first line of the message, I couldn’t take my eyes off the text

My eyes were staring at my phone in disbelief, all I recall was pressing “next”.

 

“Dear son I won’t be here for long now, I certainly don’t have time in my pockets

My plane slid off the runway 2 mins ago, in a few the temperature will soar like rockets

All I wanted to say was that I’m really sorry, I never meant to cause you pain

I was just worried about your future, cause there are millions who miss their train.

 

All I ever wanted was to see you standing, on your own two feet with pride

To have everything to you ever wished for, from God and fate by your side.

I know there were times I was blatantly rude, moments when I seemed incessantly rough

I did it all to make sure that when you get the call, you wouldn’t fall short of being too tough.

 

So if there was any way I could pray for forgiveness, I’m doing so in my final seconds

Before the hand of destiny lulls me to sleep, before death’s shadow finally beckons.

Do always know I’ll watch you from above, to guide you whenever it is required

I hope I have enough experience in my armoury, which in 40 long years I acquired

 

I love you a lot son and always will, don’t you ever even dare forget that

However bad and horrible things get between us, however ugly our spat.

Tell your Mom I love her a lot too, please don’t think I’m leaving you in dearth

You’ve had my love and utmost respect, ever since the time of your birth.”

 

The message ended there but my finger kept pressing, the button hoping there was more

knowing I was reading my father’s last thoughts, made my heart break and mind go sore.

Even though we had our share of fights, his last message filled me with pride

Because he wanted only the best for me, right until the moment he died.

 

So thats how the last day had passed, the wind still breezed through my cloak

The clouds grew darker by the minute, the rain fell on me and I was soaked.

I have no grave to pay my respects to, his body wasn’t found they stated

The fire from the plane had done his last rites, by God’s own hands cremated.