Another milestone was crossed,
without any milestone achieved.
About to cross yet another mile,
still no milestone
Dreams that vanished, dreams that
got buried,
Dreams that were broken, dreams
that were thrashed. . .
To live without anything to look forward to; could there be a punishment more severe?
You come back to an empty home,
with no one waiting for you
and then the memories of a dream
that you had hoped for a future, begin to haunt.
What you had wanted, what you had
wished for, What you got, what you live with . .
Not daunted by anybody who tries to
intimidate;
haunted by a young old self who
keeps questioning
How long? When? How? And the worst of all “You think so?”
Living a borrowed life, EMI’s of
which never end
For once, she craved for a
happiness that was hers to hold,
that was hers to clutch and that
was hers to own.
Tired of the trials of life, she
was busy finding happiness in small little things
like rain, windy weather, coffee, a
child’s smile.
She got tired of finding happiness
in those things.
Tired of trying to own the rain and
the wind that was not hers
Tired of holding the child that
wasn’t hers to hold.
Tired of smiling at the grumpy old
lady next door
Tired of the tears and their “now
predictable” trail
Tired of the vain life and the
stupid self
Tired of the pretext; tired of the
pretence.
Tired of having to have some
patience
Tired of the tribulations, tired of
the truth Tired of myriad mirage, tired of the hope’s carnage
Tired of the cuts that don’t bleed;
Tired of the bruises that she doesn’t need
She asked;
Where is my share ?
My share of love, my bundle of joy,
the apple of my eyes, my share of
life?
Where is?
Life replied:
You just got served
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