The Split Self

 


 

Some days under the yellow sky

It’s just the two of us.

Two voices, two point of views

Sync up like best friends do

 

But on those skyless days

When time, its own linearity sucks away,

I am split into quite a few.

Everything falls silent. Tidy too.

 

But my closet overflows,

with voices-ancient

That don’t belong to me.

They are gifts from beyond,

Many lives lived. Ages ago.

They ramble and shout

their innocent lies

refracting a single point of view


- Anubha M


P.C- Anubha M (Murakami Library-Tokyo)



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