Alter ego.

It wasn’t exactly clear to them if it was your choice. But you always knew it wasn’t. You didn’t bother to speak because somehow you knew your words were weak; that the dilemmas before you might weigh more than what you say about them. You condemned the mere thought of what you opposed. But you kept silent. Now that was your choice.

Now regret rattles your brain. You pass the blame on people just so you could feel better. But that only locks you up in the bad feeling. You choose not to dwell in it but do you even have a choice in the first place?

You’re promised of change. Ah, hope at last. But the hope you hold on depends on your trust; on your faith. She’ll tell you things but you know perfectly well she has no control over things too. And all the arrows point back at you. You’re square one. It’s yourself you should lean on, you realise. It will always be just you. Or has it always been that way?

The tiny screams and the impact of tiny feet on cream floor detach you from your sentiments. You try to search your mind for thoughts you might have forgotten but you fail to cling back on everything you’ve felt except for one.

Rage.

Perhaps it’ll stay.