Turn the Page, Turn the Life | A Writer’s Battle for Survival | Help Her Win
Turn the Page, Turn the Life | A Writer’s Battle for Survival | Help Her Win

Hostile Sky

Hostile Sky

2 mins

Look at the moon tonight.

Smirking at my fate from the redoubt,

Guarded by copious of stars,

As the blitzkrieg begin to sprout.

On the ground, timid and effusive,

Is standing a forlorn me.

Envying the might of constellation above,

I hatch the conspiracy to flee.

Ploughing a lonely furrow,

I've been slogging for years.

Trudging under a hostile sky,

Appears are my worst fears.

Shrouding its ulterior motive,

Casting on the ground a gloomy shade,

The moon conspires with stars,

As I flounder to remain unafraid.

Is it the conspiracy of the moon,

In connivance with stars,

To keep me awake,

For some unknown wars?

I can discern stars whispering

To the moon in a hushed voice.

Are they planning to hoodwink me

In order to get some unholy rejoice?

In a jiffy, I suddenly behold them

Secretly laughing at my worth.

I don’t blame them though,

They are too far away from earth.

In the twilight of my fortune,

I couldn’t challenge the moon.

Stars won’t shine either.

May the cloud be my boon?

The night when I am awake,

When the wind blows helter-skelter,

A twinge of consternation strikes me

As I scuttle here-there for a shelter.

Late into the dingy night,

Longing for congenial sleep,

I hark back once again

To the time I lost the grip.

Every such night, I collect

The scattered fragments of my heydays.

Not only sleep is elusive now.

Elusive remain the sun and its vibrant rays.

A familiar wail of agony

Wafts the hysterical vicinity.

I try to breathe but choke,

Suffering from bouts of insanity.

Day has its eyes,

Night has its ears.

Unobtrusive remain my pain,

My cries that nobody hears.

Stirred up is a hornets' nest

I have faltered to stay.

Hankering for a perilous voyage,

I envisage the world far away.

Gnawing at me, the sky impede

My search for a silver lining.

I reiterate, that the world beyond this

Has clouds with velvety shining.

Oblivious to the imbroglio,

And the imminent black hole,

Inhabiting my panicked abode,

Is a placid, ingenuous soul.

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