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!