Haunted By Humans
It isn’t ghosts who haunt me, it’s the living, and the ones who refuse to stay silent.
I hear the doubters who deprived certainty from my tongue, until even truth felt fragile.
I see the dreamers who insisted the world I touch is only a shadow, leaving me miserably for light that goes away.
Fear still lingers in those who taught me that survival means fighting, that trust is a luxury.
And yet, freedom lingers too, voices reminding me that my skin, my breath, my will are my own, though the world claws at them.
Some weigh me like invisible scars, demanding to balance, one never held. Others laugh at the silence of heaven, daring me to carve meaning of myself by myself.
And always, the hungry walk with me, carrying history in their empty hands.
No spirits haunt me.
Only humans. And they never leave.
By Pareshi Midha
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