Sunday, November 10, 2019

Unfinished Stories!

I was an empty page fluttering away, happily waiting for the letters to be written and colors to be filled 
You filled it with gibberish and I thought you bled that ink from your mind
The colors, Ah!, those colorful colors made my everyday visions happy and happening
Those colors seemed to blind the real you and masked the grey hue, as I wore rose-tinted glasses

When I shed the glasses and turned the pages,
There you were again, bright with all new scent, that crispy glory, and many new words 
I wanted to turn the page back and dive into the story I already knew
But like everyone, I got attracted to new stories, new beginnings, happenings, and new everything...

I took the brush, painted the new page and scribbled to my heart's content
Dancing to your tunes, your rhythm and writing what you would love to read
I trusted the story to stay with me until I give it a shape. I nurtured it, till it firmly got rooted in my mind
Few invisible letters started showing up in between my written words and my lines had new grey lines behind...

I wanted to hide the grey, subside it and kill it wearing again my rose-tinted glasses
I groped in the dark for the glasses, and my old thoughts and weaved stories became carcasses
"Oh! This just can't be the end", I thought to myself. A story would never have a plot so loose!
But the universe hinted that all stories may not end, some of the ends get hanged from a tight noose!

I huffed, I puffed, I screamed, I cried. I did everything I could, to breathe life into the stories
All my efforts were in vain as I saw that the pages got decayed, whilst trying hard to stay alive.
I no longer had the authority on the pen, as the words were getting jotted by someone else
I tried reading and succeeded only partially. The meaning of the words felt vague but dense and intense!

I was reprimanded, to tear the worn out pages of the book and to start scribbling afresh
How could I do that, when the decayed page devoured a piece of my heart and bits of my flesh
I waited and stared at that page, hoping it would magically become colorful again
A tinge of hope, that the rust would turn to glittering colors, washing away all the thoughts and the pain...
source: here


What do you think about this ? I always love to hear back. A comment or a brickbat boosts me to write more but the mud slinging shall be promptly vacuumed.

Thanks for your time :)

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