Inside this body, there are three souls,
One, the child who was wronged but persisted,
The soul, burdened beyond the years it has existed,
The faces, of people who mocked and bullied,
The places, where the cries of the oppressed have been suppressed,
The echoes, still haunt the places the cries never had chance to resonate,
The hope that the future will be better than the present,
The child, persisted with a strong will and blind faith.
Two, the artist who created worlds for child to escape,
The worlds, created by the child to escape reality,
The escape, created the lore for the new worlds,
The lore, needed the artist to tell new stories,
The child, created the artist to get entertained,
Three, the adult who is facing the reality for the rest of two,
The adult, who is the future for the rest of two,
The child, now gets pampered by the adult,
The little gifts, for the child as the token of gratitude,
The hobbies, for the artist to build and thrive on creativity,
The adult, faces the real world and protects the other two,
The shield, from the dreadful reality they have suffered.
And there comes a moment when,
The adult eventually wears and breaks down,
Reality weighing down the adult soul, tearing it apart,
That moment, the child takes over the driving seat,
Handling the trauma which the child has already seen enough of,
The artist lets the art flow from all outlets,
Chanelling the extreme grief suffered by the adult through art,
The Child, The Artist, The Adult keep this body afloat in the sea of time.