By Surabhi Choudhary
Torment and cold sweat
These disturbing nights bring,
The fitful respite comes to an end
As the alarm starts to ring.
Mornings push me in one trance
And the moon in another,
Fantasy and absoluteness
Fused within each other.
The mirror is a traitor too
A known stranger in there lies,
For he frowns as I wonder
About his questioning eyes.
For a few crumbs of love
The remnant of my self, I mortgage,
Distress and despair for me
For you- sin or maybe even sacrilege.
Living wasn't the crux ever
The lack of it helped me infer,
Life wouldn't choose me anymore
While death chooses to defer.