What is life?
The crowded trains,
The cries of fame
The desperate dreams,
That yield to no screams
The cloud-embracing skyscrapers,
The overshadowing mammoth billboards,
Permeating with a scent of ever-evasive success
The chattering, mind-numbing, overwhelming
Brainless, noisy, overbearing,
Utterly perfect articulation of non-sensical grumblings
The sheep following the shepherd,
The lack of an inner voice,
Follow what they say
Don't you dare dream of being a divergent
Oh, how daunting, the prospect of free thinking!
Better to fit in,
Better to camouflage,
Don't have to justify your vices and virtues
'Cause justification is only necessary,
For things that actually exist
How long will you lead a life meant for someone else?
Why do you settle for the role of a mere actor,
When you can choose to be the narrator?
Why can't life just be lazy mornings,
The hazy image of the grim weepy sky as you drive away from the cul-de-sac?
The road trips that apparently lead to nowhere,
The blissful overlapping voices of the hearts you hold near,
Grounding you, consuming you
Happiness overflowing from the edges of your soul
The purple canvas with spattering of stars,
The emerald glow of the tranquil flies
The constellation of freckles mapping your beloved's face,
And the trail of moles that lead to hearts that care
The trees that sway to the beats of breeze,
To the birds that sing to soothe countless sorrows
The fiery flames of the incandescent fire,
That reduce to ashes and smokes leading to answers
Hidden in the cloudless sky,
A window to the universe of unknown
Maybe life is what you will for it to be,
Maybe this poem must lead somewhere
Or maybe it will end abruptly,
Content to be nowhere
YOU ARE READING
A budding writer's collection
PoetryJust a bunch of poems written as and when I feel to write them
