Rock

Everybody believes that I am a rock.

A solid rock,

prepared and capable to take the fateful punches

as though I were unbreakable.

 

Indeed, it would take a lot of time for this rock to smooth down,

it would take even more to crush it to pieces…

 

It does not mean I don’t feel the punches.

It does not mean I’m not hurting

when a waterfall hits my surface

with a force stronger than my perseverance.

 

It does not mean my soul isn’t crying deep inside,

where even the most solid rock keeps a soft place.

I feel the punches,

I fall down under the heavy drops,

I scream tunes to my stomach, wishing to vomit my pain out

for once.

 

For once, to be allowed to sob aloud.

For once, to choke on the tears that tear me invisibly little by little,

driving me mad and into the lonely indifference.

 

Oh, the indifference is lonely. Pleasurable, yet so lonely.

Some envy me, but I don’t.

Some cry all day long, I only want to.

But rocks cannot cry: 

they stand still and silent, under the waterfall.

Hurting but saying 

Nothing.

 

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