The struckover
THE STRUCKOVER
I remember the day, the night,
When all appeared to be wrong, even when it was right.
I closed my eyes,
Put my kindness, put my selfishness on pause,
and tried to analyse, behind that low esteem what was the cause.
I see,
the fault wasn't in others,
but it was in me,
and the only one who could make all at the right place was again me.
My head swirled,
and a different scenario came in front of my eyes,
which compelled me to fall in love with materialism,
and still I wanted to make that struckover nice.
Getting devoid of all feelings was the only way,
by which I could stay,
in a Jolly mood away from the pathetic race.
A thought striked my mind,
that one day we all will get lost in the sky, then why not today,
but I discarded that thought,
as I wasn't still rot.
I started feeling as if I was losing my every second,
And will lose even the upcoming decade.
The day when I was trying to convert story into poem,
the poem get converted into story,
and it didn't had any allure.
What next,
I stopped writing and got back from fantasy to my real life which ain't so classy.
[I didn't find any ending so I had to write this. ]
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