Lying here, the hospital bed, room no 301, slaughtered by *God on earth* for good, I am all occupied if they have managed to stitch my hidden scars, too.
Scars, those terribly devilish imprints started with a selfish spark, on the successful verge of creating a holocaust in my body, mind and soul. Some bruises are of scissors and the rest, unseen, remains untouched.
Who is going to take care of that?
The nurses make sure to switch the bottles of glucose and medicines. There are injections and then there are pills. All giving me a pain considering a soon recovery.
Are we treated with pain in initial stages in order to get fixed?
The cuts are fresh, but how about the old ones contemplating and beholding me?
My eyes wait for people there to love me when I shout there in pain. All occupied in vain. There is a state of getting irritated for some. And the rest, judges me upside down.
Of course I am angry, I want to be loved, immensely. I wish to see someone craving and working hard to bring a favorable desired curve to my lips – A smile. And I feel apologetically failed when hit by the reality, hard.
They talk about my pulse, I wonder if it hasn’t stopped long back?
Greeting that doctor with a tiresome smile, I fail to hide that bulging tear from the left eye. A stranger’s hard work and confidence give me that power to stand, again.
Funny, isn’t it?
I might not be able to fill the void once created, completely! Unseen and Unheard!
But the day I get a discharge from this room no – 301, I will definitely work to rely on myself for the numerable emotions rather than sticking to someone else, this time.
Learn the art to bring a smile. And infect that art to yourself first. Rightly said, Charity and happy things should begin from home.