Monday, December 4, 2017

Straitjacketed Conscience



A long while,
wading through sure layers of mediocrity.
Once comfortable, routine like fresh laundry.
Now wrapping its vines around my neck
tightening its grip by the second.
Sometimes I let it be.
My skin turning a shade of bruised blue.
I'm breathless now.
My bones are tired.
My skin yearns for the kaleidoscopic.
I used to set your mind on fire. 
I am a wallflower now.
Time is fluid in here and yet is passing.
My life in cinders.
Fiery embers floating down to its demise.
I'm drugged by the mundane.
Will I wake up?
Will I have the courage to let go?

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