DISINCLINED DRAG

This existence sometimes feels cancerous

painfully extant and gradually spiflicating.

 

That sting of unfulfilled desires, unrealized dreams,

hurts deep inside the skin, somewhere close to the heart.

 

There weren’t demands too many, self-fulfillment would’ve sufficed,

but here I am leading a life- mundane, wounded, chopped, sliced.

 

The fear, anxiety, introversion-were they inherent or did they creep in?

countering them in due time could’ve saved me from dismay, etched deep within.

 

Being good, quiet or trying to be so, pays often and that too heavily,

the ruthlessness of this world shows you your place steadily.

 

From outside it looks like an impeccable life to them,

but they never get an idea of the excruciating heartache and phlegm.

 

No one to blame, no one to hold responsible,

it’s the very me- weak, abeyant and feeble.

 

A ‘Treasure’ that kept calling me with open arms a decade ago,

my inhibitions got it buried under layers of infrangible snow.

 

Though I pour my heart quite often by writing poems galore,

but the ship of the real ‘Poem’ sank before reaching the shore.

 

The Universe too pays you back for your sins, whips you for being timid and late,

as now, when I’m daring to like noise, it’s all silence making itself ‘Reverberate’.

 

What’s the alternative left now?, it’s too hazy to really see,

the feet of dashed hopes are crushing flowers of zeal and glee.

 

But this labyrinth of life never comes with a warning tag,

hope that I’ll traverse too, accompanying my disinclined drag.

 

-©Mohak Chaudhary

28.04.2017