Written by: Sashwat Paudel - 23038, Grade XII
Posted on: 02 December, 2022
And there I lay, awoke, but not yet into the
Mystical land of sleep, pondering:
All the places I’ve wandered,
All the things that I’ve desired;
But not a single achievement in my hands…
This is an art: an art of fooling that I have acquired-
My figure lies there, awoke, but awkwardly it stands.
So dumbed down, that nothing ever makes me numb,
And there I lay, watching myself in the mirror:
Is this who I am? Is this who I’ve become?
I classify myself as mighty yet puny for some.
Oh what a wonderful world it is!
Slips and slopes, with twists and curls:
But, shall I ever get to experience my laughter back?
I see roses bloom, in the magical garden of pearl,
But nothing seems right, everything, so grim and black.
And there I lay, completing life almost-
Life itself is nothing in its entirety:
Perplexed in its complexity, letting it inspire me,
There I lay, staring into the abyss.
The abyss that is me…
