I eloped every morning from a life of uncountable days,
To count a few of them,
Under the shadow of love, of failures, of excitements, of darkness, of solitude and loneliness,
Love disgusted me and intrigued me,
To crave it at every breath in which I was unhappy,
Love threw me inside a world full of the darkest side of happiness,
Which made me pine for it, dive at it and then drown with it.
You believe in fantasies and die with them, unlearning a few of them, to learn the darkest of them,
Until, it’s again new and livable and almost near to death, inside a conditioned masochist.
In the midst of all mistakes,
I turn to my numb body,
Wanting to throw up, in some random pool,
In utter thoughtlessness,
I create shocks out of all, I have been,
And sometimes surprised at leaning on myself,
With so much force that I almost crush my existence,
You can’t exist with so much of you, you can’t believe in one identity either,
I dwell in mass and I am nowhere,
I am a fling inside a fiasco,
I am utter helplessness inside a conflict,
Of hope and truth, real and reel,
I am nothing, I don’t want to be nothing,
And all I think of is to be, to be, to be.
Shristi is a young poet. She writes in Hindi and English. She can be contacted at firstname.lastname@example.org