August

She wished it to be a month of hope,

Not that of despair, or distress

Her days blurred in nothingness

Like a bird fallen in a trench, flapping its wings

 

Move, run, walk, read, write, stop!

Her body powerless, prisoned by her mind

Reduced to a mute spectator,

For her mind has a mind of its own

 

She dallies her day away

Eager for her sleep

No dreams, nightmares to haunt her

Untill next morning

 

In the early hours, at

Her most vulnerable self

The thoughts creep in

Stealing few good moments

Tangled in the maze she built

 

She surrenders to it, not a quitter

For she needs few days

To draw her strength

And  there, she breaks free again!