varsha alimchandani
Just keep repainting the wall

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Yes I am messed up
if that's the word you get
going back to puzzled thoughts
same traumas
same uncertainty
same habits
same insecurities
passing by years and years
in anxiety of then tomorrows
tomorrows gone already
besmearing me at midnights
what do I look for
security?
having a home?
space?
love?
assurance? comfort?
I had it
some of it
all of it
more than enough of it
yet I was always empty
what do these happy people got,
that I am never going to get?
what's inside,
that even death couldn't conquer?