Image Courtesy — Myth-Weavers
Tried to run a bit,
Gasped for breath,
Attempted to do push-ups,
Fell flat on the floor,
Thankfully nose did not get crushed,
Aimed to handle some weights,
Every muscle is stinging in pain.
The mirrors that are placed,
In the gym as walls,
Stare back at me – taunting,
Mocking me with scorn.
I wonder – what am I doing?
Was this the same individual?
How did so many disconnected incidents,
Turn to conspire and join hands,
To break me into this hopeless nut-case.
The gloves that used to adorn the hands,
Lie sealed in a cover,
There are a truckload of memories,
They all come rushing back.
The pain, the anguish, the scars,
That adorn the body, like laurels,
Burn at times, kindling a violent life,
That I keep running away from,
How long, how far, till what point?
Nothing makes sense,
I sought to find comfort in the written word,
That too evades the faculties,
If the body feels tired,
The mind weakens with scarier intensity,
I dread the day, when I will board,
The wrong train and land in some remote village.
There was a time,
When I would finish a novel in a day,
Now reading one book,
Requires immense patience,
Distractions are too many,
Worries and fears cloud the mind,
Nothing gives joy, nothing offers light.
There has to be a way,
To break free of all this chaos.
What was the point?
Of penning all this down?
I am as clueless as you are!!!!
Till we meet again,
If we do meet again,
Sending all of you prayers and good wishes!