Fragments of memories from the past
Trespassing into the present
Breaking through the tough barriers of
Proving otherwise.
Making me vulnerable,
To weakest assault of words -
Meant to hurt intentionally or unintentionally.
I dread them, often,
As they come uninvited, uninhibited.

I find myself detaching from the world -
Curling up into myself, like a foetus.
My own world, with only me in it, the womb.
It is energising & encouraging -
To be with myself, trusting only myself
Until I am ready to face the world again
And I-have-everything-under-control.

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Books by Arti Honrao

Depression is REAL

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