Mysteries of My Heart

I let them out when I lost my crayons,
Was it my immaturity, my childish side or just an act?
No, it was the sadness of losing, losing myself and now losing my crayons.
The only thing that led me to create things under my control,
Do what I want to do, fell how I want to, draw what I want to.
Not only that, bring life to it, add color to it, make memories of it.
                                                            Ah, but no one knows and will never know,
                                                            The Mysteries of My Heart.

And then when I found my pencil case broken,
The lonely Pocahontas carved upon it,
It was not I who broke but a sibling of mine
I should have acted like a grown up and saved the time
But I cried, cried like a child.
Was it just the breaking of Pocahontas box, the pencil case, or just an immature act?
No, it was just another sorrow of losing another sorrow of losing another friend that
has been with me and then gone
                                                            Ah, but no one knows and will never know,
                                                            The Mysteries of My Heart.

What was it then, when in the stadium of students, I saw myself alone and thought of my past,
Why was it then on seeing the five friends I cried?
Not in jealousy, not in envy,
But those were the tears of my past,
Memories of a place that once existed
Things I thought were for granted and forever.
People tell me to get over it, let go and see the present,
I felt embarrassed and ashamed of myself that I was so weak,
May be those tears were the sympathy of Allah,
                                                            Ah, but no one knows and will never know,
                                                            The Mysteries of My Heart.

And what was it then when I saw those solemn eyes blazing,
I was not a mind reader but I could see the hatred, the indifference,
I felt sad, and I cried because I felt like it,
Why? Maybe, because my fate brought me here and I can’t fight my fate and my heart,
They were tears of anger, why I couldn’t go along with life as a loner,
Maybe, because I wanted everyone to like me and my liking myself just wasn’t enough.
                                                            Ah, but no one knows and will never know,
                                                            The Mysteries of My Heart.

~Unaza K