Someone

Everyone has an obscure past.

Things they’ve done and have been done to them.

There is no being that has never shed a tear on earth.

And no soul that has dodged getting hurt by pain.

I’m sure someone rolled up in bed this morning.

And chose to kill a day from their short life.

The stove problably remained cold and tidy that evening.

And those pjs got an extra set of hours to sleep tight.

Today, someone punched the wall in disparity.

And spent the entire day driving aimlessly around.

The fuel tank most likely went thirsty for miles.

And his heart seemingly lost that rhythmic, beating sound.

Last night, someone dropped on their knees in a loud cry.

And hugged herself in the wilderness of her name.

Clutched the photograph lingering in her closet.

And scolded herself for letting her pride be de-famed.

Yesterday, someone broke a plate on the ground.

And cut themselves with a sharp piece of glass.

Wrote many letters of anger and resentment.

Fell asleep on the carpet, urging to disappear fast.

Tomorrow, someone will drink and sniff too much to know why.

And will leave their life hanging on a thin string of hope.

They will slowly crawl themselves back to bed.

And throw up what made them sick, not knowing how to cope

Everyone has an obscure past.

Many hide it well to fool the world.

We lie to show how strong we are.

But deep inside, we know how that's not so.