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Barbed Fence

A loss of mobility due to a depressive mind. Every day bringing in heavy steps in spite of freshness all around.

barbed-fence

The day begins with a rush of oxygen
Out on my terrace the sparrows get busy
Cacophony of chirps and tweets
floats in with a senseless glee
I strain a cup of tea
and look out at the morning light,
The sun changes in mood every time
Sometimes cheerful and sometimes filled with gloom
Mirroring a never-ending cycle of pitch and bass.

Recluse and unsocial they mutter under breath
but the door is closed, so are the senses.
The morning sky and evening breeze
are allowed to brush past but not escape
The foot falters at the door
with every attempt it pushes back at the bounded thrall.

Mountains and valleys buses and traffic
Roads that lead to radiance
A mind with all the intention
but a vile lack of logic
wrapped in a failure of motion
pulps the muscles and vessels,
The threshold cages every step
With every pitfall a little bit more.

A hallowed domain chalked out by walls
Connections fade
as habit becomes a norm.
Seeped in a loathsome self-assurance
that tomorrow I will be in form.

© 2020 Tiyasha Maitra

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