By – Suleiman Murkthar
She stares back at you. She looks pained or satisfied, you cant tell but she stares. The eyes they say are the windows to the soul, so when you stare back deep, you look at her true and bare and all you see is the dark clouds that travels across the bitterness of whom she had become, the nibbling drag that mother nature has persistently and surely removed from her very being. The unnerving knack it has had to take away her innocence her reality of who she I suppose to be. From the scars on her left jaw to the sore that travels round her black eye, it was all the stories that could be told.
The scars traveled with ease and comfort that shows the route to her lost innocence, the place she had come from, all that had happened, all that had told us how she was who she is, how the puppy-eyed angel had become the necessary evil that you see. You will wonder where she had come from, who she must have met and the circumstances that lingers around her becoming who she very well is right now, you will wonder a lot of things but all she will do is stare. She will also become judgmental of who you are as well, she stares deep into your eyes and she will see you for who you truly are, she sees your soul as well and she will see the same darkness you had seen in hers, she will see how the faade of a smile that you wear is all but a sham to hide the actual tears, she will see your scars and pains, the stamped traces of your salty tears that has stayed there permanently because of the nights where you sing yourself to sleep. The nights when the hurting of your past days are your muse and the staggering sounds of your gear changing sobs becomes your words, she will stare back you as piquing as you stare at her and she will judge you, she will blame you for her pains and her cries, she will tell you that the faults of all she had become was YOU, your naivet and foolishness of the person you never thought you could be. And you will come to hate her for what she thought of you, you will come to be irritated by the very existence that circles her being alive. And then, you blink, but she wont anymore, she has outgrown your movements, you will wave and she will stare still, looking at you. Her hackneyed aura was beginning to rub off on you and there are new ways that the world began to seem perceiving to you, there are traits of who you had become that even you never knew, and she will show you, she will tell you of how you have sold your innocence to the washing tides of time, of how you no longer owned your soul. And no matter how hard you try, it stays and watches you because in the end she has become you and the mirror shows all of it, it tells it all and tells it true, you had become the monster that your parents warned you about.
The places where our demons truly lives are the darkest of places that we have created, and sometimes in the light of love and a smile and the little shred of happiness that peeks at us when live counts. We have to learn to not be scared of it, we have to own it, we have to become it, because without those monsters how do we know our angels.