Seems a girl deeply wounded by something,
missing out on her usual charm with a vague wretched darkness inside,
devoid of her serene light unlike her usual mind.
Her mind seems to lack its serenity inside
sans her man who is far off in some distant terrain war arena
lost in the wilderness sans his woman,
feeling the raw pain and acerbity inside.
Perhaps she is totally dull and down without her soul’s antidote,
that is wrecked in wander losing out on its solace
like a color sans its pigment, sans its very life,
like a song sans its lyrics, sans its very music.
__
May be she should be in her nadir low looking out for a vent
amidst her inner darkness and a sinking scene
around losing out on her man’s embrace
sulking all alone inside that seemingly life less space of phantom aches,
that stabs her insides like thorns
diverging her away from her love
and spins her around into a deep vertigo,
that embarks her on a clue less labyrinth
converging her into some obscure vagaries
and leads her into a dubious destination
like a befuddled butterfly fluttering her wings
without any iota of an idea where it is heading toward.
—
She is feeling the pangs of separation in the desolated wee hours
of the midnight without her mate’s touch and warmth ,
she is deeply in aches since the advent of the devil
into her space making her feel the
manouvering serpent’s sinister creep.
She is all alone in her space in the midst of some crude times,
times wherein you want to badly need to be around your man,
wherein you want to feel your man’s presence
alongside but the creeping in serpent’s sting
seems to veil her insides from even his delusional mirage
that actually appears and disappears,
while she wants to divulge her crooked veil
to view her illusory image to the least.
—
Like a fluttering butterfly, she is flapping her feathers of pangs
in yearn and deception. Deception overtakes her yearn,
leaving her beneath vain and futility.
She wants to escape the creepy serpent and the sinister’s claws,
that actually seems to clearly take over these crooked times.
At times fate would turn so cruel,
wherein you are left without a choice than allowing such divergence inside
which is stashing away your love, so crude and crooked,
you are left without another choice.
—
Days are harsh, and times are crude
and you never know how and when the serpent creeps inside,
but it enters your ways diverging you
from your inherent coherence of light and love,
throwing you away in wretched darkness.
Throwing you away in wretched darkness
devoid of light and love.
my random contemplations 