By: Sidharth P K, India
I open some redresses back in time and explore that it has my pain to tell the world of tomorrow. I share this story because it is not my own script but it lies the journey of pain for those voices that are still kept unheard. I lost my laughter when others were laughing, I lost my attention when others were focused. My life was the feeling of broken house and time.
I explored the journey of trauma in my poetry and it gave me support. I knew what happened to my sweet body and it should never happen to any other child. The pain was not the matter that cared but the wounds of my mind that are still struggling to comprehend the version of myself. My voice is the expression of many dreams that is moving in juncture of my life, I keep my pen full and my thoughts tell the fact. I broke my mind, my heart whose blood are overflowing.
I never call myself a victim of any system at all, I call it my defining point in life and beyond. I saved myself from the mess, from the ultra-sonic meanings of other’s perceptions. It lived in me, and I speak on it, write on it and day-dream on it. My heart is open for new occasions.