who is to blame // a poem



\ ˈprōz

\a literary medium distinguished from poetry especially by its greater irregularity and variety of rhythm and its closer correspondence to the patterns of everyday speech

(borrowed from merriam-webster because they’re super amazing/underrated peeps)

You ever get those sudden strokes of inspiration or the times where you need to get an idea out because it’s super exclusive or amazing? Welll, this was one of those moments on someone’s perspective one night. Onward!


Whose the body which bound me against my will?
Who snagged the trickling seconds from my throat as easily as oxygen or sweet-smelling honey
Where’s the creeper who hides through the eerily lighted trees, once so joyful and serene, now a looming invader
Whose burden do I carry with every muffled cry, freshly laid tear, a creak of a floorboard
My mum, my papy, have you forsaken
Who is this man, a patient, such a patient fellow
Who guides me every step of the way, his voice is thick and kind
His light an anchor to my final daydream
But I seemed to have misplaced it
Where is that message, you know which one, the one that’ll save the world
When the searing light of a light-up screen
Can be the saddest, and most painful thing to bear
Where are the flowers stiched through the comforter, yearning for affection and warmth, not biting wind or white-knuckled woe
Are the neighbors searching
For this culprit who’s spread mayhem
For every corner of the hall; a repetitive memory; a freakish hologram
I say, “no, I demand it now”
To find whomever has locked this naive one there
Paper-thin walls, and ink thought of rooms
A perfect, if not a fuzzy, small haven, however sadly
The entire house reeks of demise, of retired souls long past asleep, if they were ever really there
A hollow glass globe
Who has shoved the boy in like a mocking present wrapped in a cocoon of pink (because pink is a pretty color)
They bottled and sold his screams like an overused mute button
Or a half-hearted blink of an eye
Their voices are soft and compassionate
Full and rounded
And I am trapped inside my mind
I only know
There I will be left to drown.

When the world falls asleep and you’re awake, everything is as delicate as glass, and the world has changed, it’s not the world you knew while awake. Has anyone ever felt this way before? How do you interpret this piece?
xx Vaishnavi

17 thoughts on “who is to blame // a poem

    • Vaishnavi says:

      oh my gosh, your comment made my heart swell, thank youuu 💙💜💙💜💙 but ok like. who cares if that isn’t a real thing? it’s official, from now herebon thereforth back again. no. freaking. way, actually? 🥰 you have no idea how much that means to me, and though I’m sure you just haven’t found another poet yet, I’m soooo happy. love ya too, as always 💬

      Liked by 1 person

  1. Katie K says:

    Vaishnavi, this is amazing! You are so talented, and I am so happy to see such wonderful work this in my feed! I interpret it as in the future where “searing light[s] of a light-up screen” completely control our lives. I’m sure we have very different perspectives on what this pose means, but I loved reading this so much! Please keep writing these posts, Vaishnavi!

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Emma @ AFCTL says:

    OML This is actually amazing!!!! Do you have more pieces like this!?! I have a book where I write my fave little pieces of poetry and prose to carry around with me to read whenever, and I’ve just added my first one from a blogger friend! Amazing and beautiful!!
    -Emma 🙂 (AKA In love with this piece!!)

    Liked by 1 person

    • Vaishnavi says:

      emmaaa, your comments never fail to make me smile!! thank you so much! not currently, but feel free to include it in your book, that would be an honour 😆 also, I DO THE EXACT SAME THING THIS IS MIND-BOGGLING. I’ll keep writing more because you love it so much!! you’re awesome xx.

      Liked by 1 person

  3. Eve Estelle says:

    “wind or white-knuckled woe”

    That’s some lovely alliteration right there.

    This is wonderful, Vaishnavi! 😀 Though you’ve classified it as prose, it still reads much like a piece of free-style poetry (I think having lines versus traditional paragraphs is a big part of that).

    I’m having a hard time putting my thoughts into words here, but my interpretation was sort of like… someone’s light-hearted view of the world turned dark. Almost feels, with your bolded addition at the bottom & lines mentioning daydreams, comforters, sleep & being trapped inside one’s own mind, that the narrator is someone pondering this darker world, lying awake, unable to sleep.

    It’s a beautiful piece. 🙂 And yes, I think we’ve all felt that before, at some point!

    Liked by 1 person

    • Vaishnavi says:

      haha, thanks as always eve ❤
      yep, that's just me trying so hard to list something other as "poem", because it seemed kind of repetitive. it's the truth, though boring.

      aaa, I love that interpretation so much. I guess I love hearing other's thoughts on it because everyone feels the same experiences through a different mind-set and view. I love yours though, it was actually what my inspiration was, a world that's like a prison at night. I know that my friend thought it was about the future with the screens and that was honestly the coolest!

      I'm so happy that you appreciated the poetry. feeling those negative emotions is honestly the worst, but it does get better :))


  4. Grace says:

    How did I not see this until now?! It’s really amazing! I can really tell your writing has been growing since you first started writing this blog, and this was such an amazing example of that!
    You have such a way with words. I love reading your poems and prose because like any great poet, you manage to capture the bits and pieces of life that anyone can relate to. Keep it up!
    My interpretation of this would be the feeling of panic or fear… like being trapped and seeing the world go by, almost like the world is holding you captive.
    Can’t wait to read more of your work in the days ahead!

    Liked by 1 person

    • Vaishnavi says:

      grace, that honestly means the world to me. I feel like this is the goal of so many other writers too– it’s one thing to always keep writing what you’re passionate about and another to be acknowledged that you as a person, have growed through your writing. your writing shapes you! how does writing feel for you?
      I will because you asked me too ☺️ it really is the small things that add up.
      I love that interpretation of it. someone else told me that this poem seemed like it was from a future world, and I honestly love that. even rereading my work, I interpreted it differently 😀
      yesss, I can’t wait to write more too.


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