Flash fiction or prose poem? Unsure.
Every Saturday morning Alisha stood in front of the mirror and wept. Sadness swept through her like an autumn breeze. Staring at the mirror, she wondered if she had been crying continually ever since she had reached puberty.
The image looked different in every passing second, and this day too she did not look like herself—yet she was the old Alisha—at least her body was.
Chucked out from the outer world, shrinking inside the begrimed room, withdrawing herself from herself, she had lived all her life. Yet, it wasn’t out of choice. She knew how difficult it was to start a conversation in this city, let alone make friends; everyone seemed to be absorbed in themselves.
She felt alone. She felt terrible. She knew how difficult and frustrating it was to be alone and terrible.
Entangled as she was in the chains of her thoughts, she kept staring absently at her changing reflection. Some minutes passed, then—the doorbell rang!
Poetry by Bibek
Read 249 times
Written on 2018-12-30 at 13:18
Save as a bookmark (requires login)
Write a comment (requires login)
Send as email