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I am constantly trying to write more about personal experiences which I think most people can relate to and also to try new poem writing styles. So I really hope you like this poem of mine!
By Meher Gandhi
I’ve always known that,
Sitting cozy in one corner of the room,
With a book in hand, a mug, and all that,
Always results in a rest not in vain.
My ideas and learnings,
Have never really proved wrong,
But, why is it that I suddenly feel the burning,
Almost as if my head’s hit with a dong?
My eyes burn, and I swear,
I never had my vision worse,
Am I thinking? Or is it just bare?
Is it a side-effect of some act of uncare?
Wasn’t I just sitting idle?
And oh, the rattling floor beneath me!
My mind is running off its course,
I wonder if this is the disaster everybody can see.
Hang on and let me decide,
Is it happening inside or outside?
Sweat and shame, they’re coming to me.
Is it the hunting wolves coming for me?
“Scream and shout,
As much as you can, be loud.”
My mind has stopped giving me new orders,
I wonder if I have crossed all the sane borders.
I am trying to gain balance because the Earth’s off it.
My breath has shied away,
“I promise I am not evil.”
“Goodness is what you gave away.”
Not about self-pity and all the useless things,
But, I really hope someone could see,
Did someone ring the bell?
Or have I gone invisible and unheard completely?
Out of breath and beat,
I stand, not feeling the burn of spilt coffee,
Trying to feel my ice-cold hands and feet,
“Where is the damned door knob?”
“Do the counting and relax. One, two, three,
Wait, what was the counting again?”
It is not that easy,
Wish I could wake up from this dreamy reality.
Slowly, things are tuning in,
My vision and I are getting back to normal,
‘Normal’ isn’t really the word for me.
‘Normal’ is the new ‘abnormal’, I believe.
Goodness gracious and all the sweet Lords!
Didn’t I scream at all?!
Because I can see nobody here as such,
“Won’t you ever learn? You’re expecting way too much!”
I never knew that I was due for such a shake,
So here I am, sitting on my couch feeling the ache,
With a book in hand, a broken mug, and all that.
It has all resulted in words and combat.
What do you think about this poem? Please do let me know in the comments section below!
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