Family

Anger. Bitterness.
Over the messed up relationships that people continue to tug on to.
Asking all the right questions, in vain, to the wrong person
Feeling terrible and unfair to be deserving such treatment, yet continue to work.
Suffer in silence, clothe it under the shroud of bravery and the liberation of attending to daily chores.
How is it possible?
Anger. Bitterness. Screeching questions.

That there are people in relationships, as well, who shouldn’t have bothered to.
Who live their lives getting things done for them and attended to.
Sphere of concern limited to self and ego, ego 4x body weight.
Who don’t give a thought to anyone else’s thoughts nor hear their heart crying.
Continue living under the belief that they are entitled to be attended upon and serviced. All the time.
How is it possible?
Anger. Bitterness. Screeching questions.

Somewhere miles away, birthdays are celebrated with home baked cakes.
An occasional chatter of pleasant conversation with mom and if lucky, dad.
Somewhere, not as many miles away, the keys go tapping
In the dead of night with the family asleep.
Trying. Trying hard. To wipe off the anger, the bitterness.
The cruel joke in relationships.
How is it possible?

This too shall pass. Last line.
The relationship won’t. Last line after waking up.
Forget it. Let anger and bitterness hiss its way. You go yours.
Listen to some other music. Write something else.