Dear younger self
The world will haunt you,
like ghosts fighting for comfort
through a storm,
you will be tossed around like a toy,
everything you love and believe in
will get destroyed.
Words will be thrown like balls on a rugby field
Betrayal shall look at your eyes
with a smirk halfway its face.
You will yearn for protection
from shadows that will never care.
You will seek a cure for a curse
That cracks at the cringyness of your tears.
But I will always be here,
waiting for you to tiptoe your way to my door,
saying, “I bleed here, ” I will say,
“come near “, I care.
Your whimpers shall become my temple
Your hands a vessel for my heart
When all doors are closed
and you can’t dare find ache and pain
Chatting in your closet behind locked doors
I will be here,
holding a key in between
the thumb that wipes away your tears
and the pinkie that swore
to always be there in your times of weakness.
I will, when no one can.
Dear younger self
Hate the mirror that bore resemblance
To the ember that echoes
Like an anchor,
thorned near the petals you yearn to touch
But smile at the little girl
That yearns to see the world.
This was written by our contributing writer, Siwaphiwe Matha.
Image Source: Pexels, Alexey Toropov
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