Normalcy

It feels like I’m writing

The same things

Spouting the same fears

In different intensities

I grow clammy thinking of

The pending works

And of having to face repeated hurts

I grow weary

These few months have been an uphill climb

That I’m slipping down more

As I climb

It feels like I’m spiraling out of control

I grow tired

For once, I want to write something cheery

And not sound like the harbinger o’ doom

I don’t feel like writing any more

It feels so much easier to leave things as they are

And not make that extra effort

That’s needed to go far

My head has run out of new things to say

Coz it still has to sift through

The things I wrote yesterday

I want to write something happy once more

Filled with magic and mystery

And clear picturesque imagery

I want to write about things

That cause me joy

And not dread

About things that I have no cause to regret

But it’s hard to think of such things

Is this my writer’s block of creativity?

There is no stopper on the fountain of thought

However, it still sprouts dark and murky

But I want to see and swim in clear water

Thoughtless and carefree

Not plagued thus anymore

Write of music and dancing and violins

Playing in harmony

In a beautiful symphony

Lose myself in good books and movies

Perhaps rid myself of reality

At least temporarily

Thinking about them

Already brings me such joy

It’s a heady feeling

Of going to places of peace

Of doing good work and duty

Responsibly

Of new challenges

That don’t drain me

Of everything making sense

From the first time itself

Keeping my cool at every step

Why do I find myself

Straining to keep away from violence?

Merely contemplating it makes me feel

Shameful and gloomy

It’s like a bad dream

This loss of control

I'm swaying and flagging

While trying to endure

It is a test of wills

And a drain of grey matter

Staying away

For most of the day

Is my current future

Alas, I've brought this poem too

To the same dreary landscape

No matter, I shall prevail

In the future

Some people are so mean and bitter

Are they not?

But it’s funny

Instead, we are the ones to shrivel up

They try to pull you down a peg lower

When you’re climbing a cliff to go higher

Oh! How they snicker and laugh their evil laugh

When you’ve fallen

I'm afraid of this growing paranoia

Festering like an infected wound

But my mind is healing

Like it’s nigh a small scratch

And not a wound

I’ll skip away from this

Run wild and free

There will be no sorrow for me

I will regain all my childlike innocence

And go back to

Finding joy in the simplest things

I’ll be whole again

I’ll be happy again

And after this,

I’ll grow strong again.