Being myself hurts a lot.

 
The candles have lighted-up my house
but my heart, is still in dark.
No one to hold on to, no way to go,
I just keep traveling into past.

The broken windows that I see in dreams,
Are not windows but my heart.
That has been broken not once,
but by millions, who are now apart.

That what I seem to be, is what I am,
but still there is a constant struggle in me, to find what I lost.
I sum-up strength every day, thinking whatever may come,
I will NOT change myself, but I feel that being myself hurts a lot.

Photo courtesy: Google

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