Sometimes you just keep on dragging things, digging the grave, buried them so deep, making a mausoleum, but is it really so? No argues, no ego, no screams, no cries, no sobs, a silence of eternity till, till it starts killing you inside. Do you try to listen? The plants having those strong roots of pain with leaves of grief, growing on the tomb. It keeps on heaping, to erupt. It grows, till it makes cracks on that crypts, on the surface to come out.
You argue, with yourself, for yourself. You shout, you disguise, to protect yourself, from your temperaments. You keep on running, to find the place, desired one, secure one, will you ever be able to, with all your personalities, same person, different identities. Are you normal? Do you know even yourself? Whom are you really safeguarding? Yourself or your attitudes?
Ego, superego, id clashes, all the time. Are you aware enough? Conscious enough to distinguish? Do you hear the sounds of these conflicts? You know the way, still, you do not know. Accept or not, this is what it is and will always be. It is hidden yet so evident, not with these eyes, not with these senses you comprehend. Absorb the essence and engulf it, you know what it is?
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