Poems and ‘Self’-portraits
Prameswari mrajabwana
2020-2021
Portraits and poems of the self.
I AM
I have been confined to the fondness of the temporary, and now that it has caused me pain, contentment has become mundane.
Here is something about me, I am the heir of my mother’s grudge, the heir of my father’s ego–– the parts of me that I spent years escaping from, I guess I have been running in the wrong direction.
I AM (2)
I only cry over days when I cannot shed enough tears, making time seems like nothing but a feeling–– because nothing I have done is ever enough, and my past sits with me as I live.
For to live is to feel; forgetting is beyond my nature, and forgiving is not a gift I was born with. But if it is true that my past does not define me, then all I need to do is to accept.
That who I am is a mistake nobody made.
DON’T BOTHER
No need to bother me with indulgence while I’m searching for solitude, I’m not old enough to comprehend ephemerality.
Instead, meet me in the corner of my mind when I’m asleep at night––where I can forgive without repentance, love without angst, speak without fear.
There, the sun never rises, and I’d stay there if you ever get sick of me.
MAN, I JUST BE THINKING
In a world beyond sobriety,
a world beyond honesty,
a world beyond sanity,
there is a world without boundary,
where abstractions are mere reality.
There, my most valuable possession lies,
far beneath the guise––
the skin I incise,
the one that separates you and I,
thoughts I always try to pacify.