A Game In My Mind

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

A poem on how an introverted mind wages a war against itself when society interferes.

Submitted: May 07, 2018

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Submitted: May 07, 2018



I think,

That I overthink,

Your stare, your smile, your words.

Everything that you do means a gazillion,

An ocean of meanings,

An explosion in my mind.

You see,

When our eyes meet,

When you look at me past the hallways, the library, the streets.

It comforts, it lingers, it stings.

Your look sinks me

Into a deep void

Catapults me into ecstasy

Bludgeons me back to sleep.

It stings!

I think,

Your look tells me you don’t want to see me again, does it?

Is it a gaze that empathizes?

Selfless eyes, saying your pain is my pain.

My sorrow, your gain!

Or is it a look of disappointment, disgust, disappointment!

Over my tripping over the bush in the parking lot last September?

Is it?

Yes? No? Oh!

Your smile,

A masquerade party that lures me into your thorny lips.

It seeps into my eyes, dwells in my mind.

Is it a smile that pats me on the back, good luck, you’re a hero!


Your smile says you’re full of pride.

I’m dead inside, I hide

Over the intimidation, the lacerations on my fast-beating chest,

The shame, the guilt

It kills.

Daggers flew from the wrinkles of your wry smile

As if I am the target,

The culprit of my own worthless fate.

I think,

Your smile says I’m never gonna be better,

A mighty warrior who could wield a sword higher than the ground

I am a man perpetually bowed down, unsound

Silent, unsound.

Is it your smile,

That crucifies me under the piercing blanket of the night sky?

I cry.

I dream, I close my eyes, I sleep.

Your smile disappears.

Does it?

Yes? No? Oh!

Your words,

I think of your words.

Today, they’re chirps of birds,

Tomorrow they’re booms of thunder

I quiver, over your ‘hey’, ‘hi’, ‘how are you?’

I’m not okay,

My mind wages a war against itself whenever you speak,

I think,

Your ‘hey’ is not a ‘hi’, not a reply

Of mutual respect, an attack from behind.

Your ‘hi’ is a disguise of a mockery of my awkwardness,

An insult to my loneliness.

When you say ‘no thanks’, I break

It’s a confluence of negative meanings, feelings

Playing in my mind.

As if you’re saying, ‘No, thank you.

I don’t want a treat to the waffles with somebody

Who’s a nobody

Who wallows in self-pity, anxiety, and fantasy,

Who overthinks.’

I think.

Your ‘yes’ is a no

Your no, ‘I hate you so much!’

Your sorry, ‘Don’t talk to me ever!’

Your goodbye, ‘Goodbye, forever.’

I think,

My mind is in a constant battle.

It yells, it’s a chaos,

It sees everything in different levels.

It sees your eyes, your smile, your words

Not merely as a visible garden of flowers

But an underground cave,

Hidden like a grave

Deep down under

Dark, mysterious, treasures

Waiting to be discovered.

I think.

I think.



© Copyright 2018 Gian Ime. All rights reserved.

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