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. ]