By- Sanjeevani Shukla
Let's just keep saying it until we actually start believing it.

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Sanjeevani Shukla

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Stranger to known cycle

Poem

Waking up on a grey, ruffled bed sheet;

All the same, still unknown.

I don’t feel ecstatic about the chirping of the birds in the mornings now,

Screams of deadlines and repeated tasks echo in my mind.


I have been doing this for years now,

Still it doesn’t seem right.

Coffee after coffee, late night tasks,

Hiding behind a stunning smiling mask.


Because my life is perfect,

Or at least seems to be.

Regardless, too burdensome to accept, 

That the little girl who wanted to touch the skies,

Is just caught up in a loop of Lies.


I look outside my window, trying to catch a glimpse of the wall clock in the panoramic view.

Because there's a place I have to be.

A demeanor I need to own.

Put on a disguise, faking my reality.


I get in the shower,

The first chilling drops of water down my spine bring me back to actuality.

Then it gets better.

And I ponder, when will it actually get better.

My existence,

When will it not feel unworthy.


I step out,

Trying to brush off these weird impressions.

I wear my clothes, put on my makeup.

Looking like I can conquer the world,

Battling my own self inside.


I drink my brewed coffee,

I like it cold these days.

Grabbing my croissant in a napkin,

I head out.


I head out and I see faces,

Just like me, some more like me than myself.

I see a mosaic.

A mosaic of facades all around me.


I know this street,

Still want to not know it.

I walk down the lane to my office,

As I do everyday.


The elderly doorman holds the massive glass door for me,

With perhaps the most genuine smile I ever witness in that building.

I dive into the corporate abyss,

Remembering nothing else,

Just files and meeting invites.


Hours pass by and I get out of that glass door,

Finally able to breath for a while, heading towards Home.

Or is it?

My home.


I lay down on the bed upon reaching.

Not caring to change,

Not caring to dine.

My only escape,

My perfectly spiced wine.


I close my eyes and dream of today,

Like everyday, every night. 

Battling not to cry with all my might.

I open my eyes and its day again,

I look in the mirror,

Not recognizing myself.

The lines of my face have changed,

And I am just a Stranger to Known,

Very Known Cycle.







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