Festival of Insignificance

Heaviness

You have always walked
Weighed down by the buckets of guilt
Pulling like retractors
You ought to care
Inquire more, report your affairs
Unmentionables spread on the balcony
Such a bother, having to remember someone
In the midst of your angst
And despair
You dial the numbers, thinking
How hard it is to acquire compassion
Nowadays 
One has to scavenge even deeper
For a tear or two
On the daily, you struggle to find the line
Between a truth and a pose
Divine the vices in your prose
To mold your expressions and adjust your tone
With the skill of an actor
Looking away from the face of your consciousness
Grimacing, about to choke on laughter

"What a lier !
You were sipping on coke though."

The few phrases of courtesy quickly exhausted
And you are forced to digress
You squeeze your brain to find the words
To fill in the silence
It truly has been a while
To know what to share
With an almost, almost stranger now
And their chill voice hits like a train
Strayed off tracks
"Thank you for calling, I have a lotta guests."

Relief

You have felt a load escape your lungs
They never needed your heart
In their distress
Nor had the time to miss your pity donations
Of obliged kindness
Your entire existence is but a spec of dust
Blown away by the wind of neglect

You could have carried on for the rest of your life

Thinking you were bold
For not caring enough
But truth to be told you never really mattered
Some truths are better off not known, though
She hung up the phone, with a dismissal, cold
And
It kinda stung, somewhere

Melancholy

Did it truly cleanse your heart from the blotch of shame
Or did it hurt to realize
That they struggled to recognize
Your voice and name
That you mattered not much
Cold, cold times, the ones we live in
We find it hard to shed tears
We are too scared to vent our spleens
We are too conscious to let them hear
Our trembling voices
And we prefer to talk through rigid screens
Seek the aid of fake faces
As we twinge from the heartaches

Cringe at crude pretensions

In which we refused to partake
It occurs to none
That behind these masks
Of rude candidness

We are but clusters of solitude

Wallowing, in carelessness
Among other solitudes.