tossing and turning, now part of the routine
the happenings of daytime,
memories i should have amassed
are unknowingly consigned to oblivion.
my thoughts, so puzzling.
has it been three days? or has it been five?
terror strikes the wakeful eyes
that flit through the abyss
all there is to see
is a hand so fair, a knife agleam
a voice-"they're out to get me!"
i hear the trepidation so clear.
was that me? or was it not?
i try to count the seconds that pass
mind so fuddled, i can't get past 40
then comes the chagrin, causing chaos
my thoughts, so puzzling.
has it been three days? or has it been five?
i see faces in the dark
that i seem to recognize but can't place
i hear whispers and murmurs
voices- "he's gone insane."
i want to yell that i'm not
but what comes out is mere gibberish
strengthening their claims
i hear the trepidation so clear.
was that me? or was it not?
words seem to rise up
to the tip of my tongue
only to be swallowed back down.
i ask, or try to- "is this real?"
and my last sane thought hits-
i can't tell the difference.
it's been too long, I'm too far gone.
Wakeful is a poem I'm proud of. I feel the need to announce this because most poems don't hit the mark for me. A lot of times, I tend to feel like there's something missing, something holding it back from being just right. So, for me, it took some time to accept that after a certain point, there's nothing I can change about a poem. There's nothing I can do to make it better. But with this poem, in the end, I was completely satisfied with how it turned out. It sort of reaffirmed my entire poetic side.
I'm trying to remind myself that my poems don't have to seem perfect. I'm not aiming for perfection. The only boxes to tick are whether or not I like what I'm writing, and to pen down something that would resonate with another person.
Anyway, I'm curious to know what you think so leave a comment, tell me if you like what you see.
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Until next time,
Vaish.
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