Date Published: January 19, 2023
Time Published: 9:19 AM
Category: Poetry
Theme: Delusion
The train of thoughts I've got at midnight—
My subtle excuse to stay up late.
What am I supposed to do in a broad daylight
If not querying my own faith?
Lucidity is only achieved in not wakeful state,
When my mental landscape is deformed
By the unconscious reality I created—
The mirror of himself exists as a norm.
He is the entity I don't have to conform,
For the awareness of the disgraceful impurities we both share.
Both stranded in the turmoil of a chaotic storm,
And the solace for us to afford is to fare.
I want to bring him to a tangible limelight.
But for him, pseudo-sympathy is grim.
I'm afraid to caress him—I might summon a fight.
Only in a sedated stupor, I see his lively beam!
What shall I do to make him come to life?
If he could just see himself through my lens;
If I could just make his baggage less dense;
Yet I can only somniate to witness his reference.
When the world's lullaby turns to a scream,
Out of bizarre caprices that clash—
The escape is to be with him in my dream
where his comfort vanishes in a flash,
And his departure makes me fash!
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