What do you do?
When you have a clear head?
The kind where sleep eludes you
The kind of clarity which deludes you
You pick the cool air
With your toes curling tight
You scratch the sheets raw And your cheeks as you bite
Where do you exhale
And breathe out the pressed lip?
Where do you dream
As the night tags along a trip?
The canvas dark,
hanging on a rope,
Splattered with a distant fear And a sloshing puddle of hope
A weird rainbow
And off you go
To the dreams you borrow
The milestone of tomorrow
As your breath races
You embrace a multitude of your faces.
What do you do
When you search into the mirror
And instead of you it shows only someone familiar?
The featured image has been clicked by our photographer Srishti Garg.
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