4th July, 2020.
The sweetest jingle in the world so wide,
Played the cue for the morning gride,
Relentlessly ringing in the bed,
Had surely become my morning dread.
Hit the snooze and curled up again,
To escape momentarily from this pain,
The sun's bright hit right in my face,
Eyelids crushed with it's luminant rays.
The illusive night had cast its spell,
Kept me clinging to my shell,
The constant ache with limbs all tight,
Crucial to savour the delusion of the night.
Waking up was this starting trouble,
So much endeavour to burst this bubble,
Then sat up like a frowny heap,
Cozy rugs inviting me back to sleep.
Within seconds my processing mind,
Puts forward these thoughts aligned,
A run through of my schedule so fast,
Gave me this internal panic blast.
Another Monday rounded up so soon,
But my heart and mind already immune,
To this rut and grind, this unending strife,
More than a part, had become my life.
All these months I've had it all,
But never felt this awakening call,
This nine to five was all I knew,
But I recall the picture my childhood drew.
The 'full life', an idea well sold,
By the boomers who crafted this household,
They called our ways entitled and strange,
Because we wished for the world to change.
Saturation in it's fullest way,
Made me contemplate that day,
I packed my things and left this tide,
Choosing to stay with my millennial side.
~ Neeraj Giri © ~
YOU ARE READING
T.C. Poetry
PoetryLet's all take a moment to look around us. Breathe. Widen those senses. And absorb every little feeling out there. Incomprehensible. That's the veracity of the things existing around us and including our own. We'll try to fathom everything. There's...
