{Start from 2:17}

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Flipping the pages of a dusty old journal,

The fading childish scribbles from when everything was normal...

The lingering shadows of past,

Memories that were never meant to last...

Visiting the past, I'm standing at the beginning,

I saw them all, happy and grinning...

Unaware of the torment to come,  

Wish I could warn them- save them from what they'd become...

Flipping further, the happiness started to fade,

Handwriting becoming messy, words turning sharp as a blade...

Then came their suffering- their cries of agony,

The same faces that once glowed with joy- the sheer irony!

Having seen the end, I feel numb,

Neither were they happy, nor did they succumb...

Laughter, mischief, betrayal, and more,

From where I stood, none of it mattered anymore...

Everything became:

Too still...

Too quiet...

Too tranquil...

🖤

~Miss Anonymous 

5 April 2026

8:47 P.M. {IST}

Sunday 

♡POETESS'S NOTE♡

This poem. This one was kinda more like a haunting realization of maturity. Do tell me your views and interpretations so I could drop my own perspective.

Clue: "Tranquil" doesn't mean anything joyous. Connect it to emotional exhaustion/burnout.