O what a world we have,

Or the world which have

Us;

Sent some 

total population to grave;

How naive 

Was I,

 not to understand, 

It was all a lie;

Said by 

The absolute victor,

After his victory was nearby. 

We have shortcomings,

And stories that are saddening.

But it never was a reason,

To stop marching;

As if it was a treason.

What if 

 ...

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“Fruits of over-thoughtfulness”

Even to my best of friends,

I couldn't talk.

Because of the thought,

They might;

Walk,

While I sulk.

I rather stitch My mouth,

Than to disturb,

the only person, I want

To converse with.

I am not solo,

Have solitude got my 

Back, when tired;

As all my plans got,

 back-fired.

What if all my companions...

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"The laments of imagination”

Everytime and every-other time,

I duelled with my life on- line,

Against those “worst-case scenarios”;

I created for the better

 for mine.

We always gone,

Toe-to-toe,

Each other's best foe.

“nah, I will win and give it a run”,

I think to myself.

While anxiety made me stun,

I got stung ,

And created a new river to run;

With...

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Melancholic of the monsoon

Sluggish mornings,

Smell of fungus

in my slippery doorsteps,

Elongated bedtimes,

Slacking routines,

Hearing nothing ;but symphonies,

4 walls, headphones as my roomies,

Safeguarding books

And Reading them to cats 

To which they nods,

But silence alone growls.

Instant noodles,

And concurrent doodles;

Fills stomach and minds.

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Doom Scrolling

At dawn of morning,

Alarm gives a warning,

“The day is starting”

Sleep deficient dreams clearing,

After a set of washing,

I start scrolling.

While eating, I scroll;

To make bland

 food ,spicy 

And a spicy one

 as bread.

While in crowds,

I scroll and surf

Through net;

As I ignore them all-set.

In alone I scroll,

To make the mayh...

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Make a painting with sweats,

And resins from plants ;sweets,

Bitters and thoughtful meets

To form its themes,

Weaved lining of lines,

Hardly the Magnum opus; it might,

But to feed it's beauty to flames,

Just to escape cold,

 And warm hands!

Am I a meaningful painting

Or just a plaything

Lying like a firewood

With no good,

 Isn't it you behind this, o almighty...

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