Poetry from Audrija Paul

IDEAL

Ideal? 

Was it what I was looking for.

No it wasn’t. 

Neither it was my plan to be someone’s ideal. 

As I had rejected myself 

A thousand times. 

 I knew my place was thus in a room, and not a house. 

          I misunderstood my unruly soul. 

 I went a step ahead, 

Breaking my small room’s wall into a stranger’s enormous house. 

The stranger let me enter the house and as well welcomed me. 

But I mistook that with an invitation. 

I lived all in peace thinking it was an ideal place for me. 

But very soon the stranger made me realise that I was just a mere guest. 

I could not but leave. 

My heart within was bound by the magical thread of the house. 

It was entangled and bleeded when I tried to detangle it. 

It hurt and I was helpless. 

I had nothing to do. 

I carried the magic of the house with me, 

I welcomed the merciless torment of the house on my heart, 

But it was the heartless house that never welcomed a mere guest like me.

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