“Did you see my skin?
Did you notice my wrinkles?
I don’t matter to everyone like before.
I rarely get attention;
and sometimes not at all unless I ask.
I don’t run to the kitchen these days,
as I couldn’t do that with this energy.
My joints ache so badly,
but I don’t complain to anyone.
I slip down most of the time,
because I’m not able to balance myself.
I wear a simple faded cotton jacket on my lose skin.
My muscles shrunk;
my hair turned grey;
I started losing my memory.
The scars are the deep wounds inside my heart that nobody listens to.
I still remember that pretty face when I was eighteen.
I have surplus amount of love for my family,
but sometimes I break down as my days come to an end.
I long for peace;
but mental agony of loneliness haunts me.
I want to live so much here forever,
and unfortunately there are a handful of medicines on my table.
I’m preparing myself for the last day.
Please don’t cry when I leave, but miss me at least once sometime.
Maybe when you see my bed empty,
or when you see my walking stick on the corner of a wall,
or when you look at a family group photo,
or when you see my favourite old song.
I love you all.”
© Yashica Priya