There’s a point beyond,
A point where I feel nothing at all.
I guess I have been there for centuries and over.
I guess it has become a habit which can’t be undone.
There’s a point where you heal faster than you get hurt.
But that only comes after infinite unbearable cuts.
There’s a point where nothing hurts but hope.
It is like a blade to throat,
Cutting your flesh but not enough.
And every time you wish it would be over,
It cuts a bit more.
But I still wish,
I wish that someone is made,
Made to fit like a puzzle.
Maybe for my broken silent heart,
Maybe exactly made like the other part?
And I wish someone, something brings that to me,
And I can only wish that it wants me as much as I wish for it.
And that, it is the sole reason for which my heart still beats,
I guess someone is made.
I want to be with her till my memories fade.
Someone who can dream my dreams,
Someone who can hear,
My silent heart’s loud screams.