Throw away your tantrums,
lock way your fears,
kill the old you
gut the insecurity  out of it,
relish the laughter
and echoes of what people said
anout you once

then run for the hill
you always wanted.
tread barefooted
let it bleed
walk alone
don’t make yourself a cripple
fall a hundred times
and cry your misery out

look for the hill
conquer it
or die at the summit
valiantly at least

We have laid to rest
our past
like an afterlife

wrapped with everything
we could get our hands on,

the childhood,
the curiosity,
and the indifference towards
failure

all lying in a single place
left to suffocate alone.

I wonder will they die before us
or after?