A Grasp of Screams
_______

“Beware of your limits child!”
My aunt said to me.
The anger in their eyes,
Often mirrored me.
To everyone here and everyone around,
This question I put forward,
Does duty have no bound?

What is a family
If not laughter and joy,
What is a blood line,
If I only learnt to survive,
What is there amidst
4 walls made of brick,
If no one stands by you
When you’re suffering?

I have long since forgotten,
That I exist, in the chaos
And the screams
And the anger, faded dreams ,
A child grows up,
Blinded from within.
My fears get trapped
In the walls of the house.

My life imprisoned,
Cries to break free.
Home, is a place of comfort they say,
Family keeps you together,
They claim.
What if home taught me to run and hide,
And family are the people
I can never call mine.

I carry the pieces of rage they left in me,
Gently pluck them out,
And get back up on my feet.
Is it easy to find yourself out?
When the most difficult times of yours are unnoticed?
I grew up as a shadow,
Scared of the mirror,
Wasn’t easy I must say,
To overcome the fear.

The house mocks me with
Age old curse,
It’s not a home,
But a myth to some.
When the lineage betrayed,
My pen stood up.
I kept spilling blood through ink on the paper.

The paper held me close
When no one came near.
The diary made no complains,
The books hugged me back,
The pen screamed on my behalf,
My ink got my back.
My words will cut deep
Into veins of those,
Who says a family
Is what keeps you close.

Yet if it’s real,
Then it’s ought not to be true
That a family needs to be in flesh and blood,
And a human lining to you.
Let me enlighten you dear readers,
Wreckers are not family members.

My family is my pen,
Melted to a sword,
My words are my siblings,
Saving me at all costs,
My pages are my heroes,
They keep me going,
My ink is my lineage,
In my genes, they’re flowing.

~Srijita Chanda ✍
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