To all the letters to self
To all the letters to self Old and new
You knew you’ll never make the cut Despite being a treasure trove of all things that really matter
Every time you see reality panning out differently than the manuscript You only squirm a little in that tightly sealed envelope of yours
You probably find a wiggle room and try to push for the truth you stand for It must be devastating to never win
You must have a weave of your own voices Tired of being stifled all the time
Every word uttered must be a revelation A story veiled behind and buried under fascinating made-up ‘facts’
To all the letters to self Old and new
You are acknowledged for bearing with the endless saga of trust and betrayal Something we consciously partake in only to always remain oblivious of
You stand for a lost opportunity to understand the true self Since surfaces are dreary and only present with the idealized versions of self
You pass these tests of dignity with great aplomb Continuing with life, unburdened with the past happenstances
To all the letters to self Old and new, if only I could learn the art of this trade for accord and discord, alike!