Walking Bomb.

Sometimes people wonder why
they don't feel
the way they used to feel

or
the way they know they should feel.

It boils their blood
when they see the
blinding contrast.

Who they could be
and
who they are now.

It cracks their mind.
They just can't put a name
to the pain.

I felt this way before.

Danger ticks louder and louder
in your head,
and you find no strength
to cling on

but slide away.

It's tough to linger with friends
because you're no longer the same
and it's hard to pretend
everything's okay.

You don't want them to ask,
because you can't even comprehend,
you don't even understand yourself
might as well shun and fade away.

Every little thing around you
seems to prick you.
An elbow jab
a glance
a little accidental push by a passer by
a casual remark

one tick,
and your sanity could explode to bits.

That's lethal.

You think isolation is solution.

I thought so.
But the tick gets louder and faster.
The pressure intensifies,
and you don't know when
you'll be struck.

But louder is the knock at your door
than the incessant ticking in your head.

Open the door.
Someone wants to come in.

He's not disappointed at your state.
He just wants you to let him in again,

and let him
do what only he can.

and it was then,

I found rest.

You will too.

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