Walls

The walls of my room erode
bit by bit everyday
betraying its exteriors
and denuding its core
as if revealing
some mystic piece of art
covered under the layers of
paint, varnish and emulsion

Through the patches of grey
it now gives an impression
of some dark poems
written secretly
to find comfort
in the accumulated pain
caused by the ravages of time

And now
that the pain wants to burst out
to gently erode is the only choice
rather than to crumble, collapse
and perish
for that’s what the brave hearts do
they live on enduring all the pain
no matter how fierce life gets on them

– Chhaya