The Caller:
One hand on the phone,
other hand on the trigger,
all my life I have been alone,
no other way can I figure,
my sweet way to the gravestone,
I try to forget my grief over the headphone,
in this miniscule life
my problems have only gotten bigger,
I have tried it all
do not doubt my vigor.
I get no calls of concern,
never felt the feathers of kindness,
only talks of madness,
even at this point of no return,
in search of the halo of guidance.
I never had a home to call it my own,
days spent
browsing for ways to suicide over my phone,
for death seems the answer
to my questions of why I was even born,
while nobody cared about mine
they said every life is like a moonstone.
I have tried it all,
I have coaxed myself enough,
now that I am standing on the ledge
ready to take the fall,
sing me a lullaby
for to good days I wish to wake up.
The Operator:
I know life’s been tough,
anything I do will be hollow
anything I say won’t sound much,
but because you couldn’t have a paved way
now that your going’s rough,
that doesn’t mean you have to rebuff,
for I can sense the sweat in your voice
over the cold steel,
get off the clutch.
Think about the tears
over the wrinkled faces,
think of the ambitions
never fulfilled,
think about dying faceless,
think of the chance lost to rebuilt.
I claim to be no apostle,
I can’t drive your problems away like a smudge
but I will be there for you
whenever you come at my doorstep,
now that you see yourself as a handicap
I can’t fix your body, but I can be your crutch.
There is no day without a little night,
there is no peace without a little fight,
speak up your mind,
do not be embarrased,
I will listen to you
for I am forever on the line.
The Caller:
I can feel the darkness within
being lit by the skylight,
the skylight of hope,
although fragile,
although weak,
but I might just have enough graphite,
for I have erased the “old me”,
the “new me” I wish to rewrite.
I don’t wish to die anymore,
I have put the revolver away,
for in this battle of depression
I do not wish to be the prisoner of war,
I might just forget it all
as some act on the broadway,
and start anew.
– Darshan Das