Six Seconds of Self.

Image by Dirk Wohlrabe from Pixabay



Numerous stories cramped up in one,
Too many pathways, but reaching the end of none.
Loving things and then suddenly I’m done.


Blacking out for a while, then finding light,
Liking it for a few moments before it hurts my eyes.
Why did I choose this life? I wonder.
Do I really want to be a part of everything, or just a bystander?


Who am I, what am I here
A rock stuck in a raging river?


Somedays, I write my fate,
Other days, just scribble

Six seconds of attention, then I start to fiddle,
I guess nothing sticks with me
as much as being fickle.


Poem by Priya D’Silva


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