Pre-Script: This crap need not be paid attention.
Sometimes a wrong decision weighs so heavy on you that you
seriously start doubting the whole damned relevance of your existence.
In the heat of passion, I too made a wrong decision some 6
months back and now what?? Every dream which was once flaring with the
intensity of sun has died down to ashes making my entire world all black.
Lying
amongst the ashes are some vain hopes, some bizarre yearnings of playing with
the hands of clock, of a beautiful past that could lead to an even prettier tomorrow-apparently
my present wherein I stand, ready to trade a thousand tomorrows for a single
yesterday. Yes, human desires can be so insanely vain.
Morning dreams do come true , specially when they are undesirable. My dream did come true , trust me it did. My best friend- the only one I "truly" have, gave me the sad new of the demise of my desires, and almost as soon as I realized that it was just another bad dream , I heaved a sigh of relief only to wake up to find out that it wasn't a dream but the trailer of an ugly reality! I failed and the same report card, as in my dreams,same down to every grade, conjured in front of my eyes, only this time it was real.
Morning dreams do come true , specially when they are undesirable. My dream did come true , trust me it did. My best friend- the only one I "truly" have, gave me the sad new of the demise of my desires, and almost as soon as I realized that it was just another bad dream , I heaved a sigh of relief only to wake up to find out that it wasn't a dream but the trailer of an ugly reality! I failed and the same report card, as in my dreams,same down to every grade, conjured in front of my eyes, only this time it was real.
I have been mourning for too long, my benumbed intellectual
faculties have been burning on the pyre of my dear dreams from a long long
time. My wimpy frame cries out loud for a colorful attire. The wings which once
dreamed of touching the acme of success have been clipped by the cruel hands of
failure. The continual flapping of the wings and the accompanying moan disheartens
like nothing else on the surface of this meaningless earth.
I am sick and tired of wallowing but I understand that no
one else is responsible for my sorry state of affairs but me. I am the writer
of my own misfortune, slayer of my own tomorrows. How, I wish I could be a
redeemer too. How I wish I could re-write this awful chapter of my life. But reality
shouts back at such vain hopes over and over again, I can’t do so!
As I stand still, watching the cremation of my own
miserable-self, I can see a crazy brave fiber yet untouched by the blazing
cinders, I wonder if it’s going to survive long enough to regenerate a new life
out of the ashes.
May a mere hope
breathe life into an otherwise dead frame –whispers a demented soul!
P.S: I wish to believe that desires die, but dreams can be protected , if hope is made to survive despite all odds. I pray, may every broken-heart have its hope intact, alive..
P.S: I wish to believe that desires die, but dreams can be protected , if hope is made to survive despite all odds. I pray, may every broken-heart have its hope intact, alive..
