Any other day

It was a dull morning broadly overcast

I moved my life leftward in search of answers, there was none

I bent my life down toward my knees to find some strength, I got cramps

I tried to twist myself either ways to fire my ambitions, I pulled a muscle

I bathed myself off surrounding loneliness, and contracted depression

It was a dull morning, broadly overcast, when I felt lifelessness under this vast horizon of creation

I awoke myself to realize my ghostly presence, lost conscience and tangled hypocrisy nails would grow on my being quicker than they would be chewed off

Dirt was all over

I could smell a flesh burn, watch a body mourn and view a soul lost in the murky lanes mine was missing nonetheless

and missing it is, as I wake up in an overcast morning to start another day of smearing consumables on my decomposing matter I move my life; I bend it down, twist it sideways and even bathe it to perfection still it goes missing, the I in myself

Alas, I still  miss in myself.

                                                                        Balaji Chattopadhyay