The DilemmaA Poem by Blue IvoryYou start writing again, I publish something I've been scared to expose for over a year. Your move, Muse ;-*The Dilemma The existence of the mind Is nothing but unfortunate Our lives had been planned for us Since long before we arrived By our parents, and by fate.
So what use is it to decide Whether we are happy With the plan, or not? It’s not up to us to control it. And yet, its deed is in our names.
Why dream, if they can’t be realized? Why must we be given false hope? If there is a conscience in me, Why did it not guide me in time Instead of telling me to blindly
follow And later, leaving me with regret? Why?
There are so many things that I wish I hadn’t done in life. If this is my state at age 16, What will happen in the years to
come? Which part of my life do I look back
on And say, “Those were the time…”?
We are forced to listen to Our Needs over our Wants. Bound to seeking methods of survival And ignoring our desires- Ones which make us feel ALIVE
In the end, we are left losing What were once our true virtues And still not getting any better At what we chose instead. At what we have been putting ALL our time into for such a long
time… And then we realize Just how empty our lives really are.
I was supposed to be a legend. My name was supposed to be big. But legends start young- Possibly around the age of 3. My only memory of being 3 years old Is when a director wanted to cast me But my parents said no to his face. Saying, it would distract me from
studies.
But I still remember how No one noticed my change of color One minute I was glowing The next, my face was grave. I was a good little girl. I knew only that my parents knew
best. And that I was never to question
their judgment. But how much longer should I stay
silent? Two more years, till I am
independent?
But what exactly does that mean For a girl in this region of the
world? Living alone in the city Is equivalent to prostitution in
others’ eyes A female driver is necessarily a bad
one. If I want to leave my parents, I have to find a husband. And that just opens up Another thousand doors of complaints.
Such a mamma’s boy! We must live with
his parents. Under their judgmental noses, and
their watchful eyes. I will never be as good a cook as his
mother. My customs will always be wrong. But that will be a small fraction Of the criticism I will receive.
My guidance counselor says I’m reading far too ahead. All of this still has More than 10 years to come! And true, while I have been
contemplating, The valuable time I had, I have lost…
But it is not just me, I know. We all have fears. Most fear theirs. And hide them in corners of their
consciousness.
I am lost whenever I open My mind to such horrors, Each night, my pillow Is flooded with tears One thing I know I need Is a selfless soul, One who will be willing to comfort
me.
But one such soul, could only be a
human. Another one like me. And to ask one to be so selfless
would be selfish As they too have problems of their
own. And that sheds light on the fact That we are all a mass of wandering
souls All waiting to be held tight So we can cry our hearts out Until the pain is gone, we’re tired, And this Angel will put us to sleep.
And then I miss those times When I was just a child For who else can support like a
mother can? But I have tried talking to her My
problems are far more complicated Than a simple “booboo” on my finger She no longer understands Or I no longer fully know how to
express
Truly, this transition period Of going from being a child to a
woman Is oh so painful! One starts to question The simplest things
I cannot even tell if these Are my true feelings Or if I’m just running in fear Like I have been doing Since my aunt died and I Understood the gravity of death
I am no longer a child But I am yet to be a woman Now I see my curiosity Of what goes on in a cocoon Is being answered to me The hard way.
© 2013 Blue IvoryAuthor's Note
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Added on September 27, 2013Last Updated on September 27, 2013 AuthorBlue IvoryDhaka, BangladeshAboutI am a sugarcoated wreck. A cupcake with a chipped human tooth baked inside it. I breathe out soot left behind by the corpses you tried to bury but I come to you served in a silver platter. A hot.. more..Writing
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