The poem is a hard fought conflict between me and my conscious. How even an accomplishment chomps you when not attained rightly. The conflict from ‘realization’ to ‘ascription of sanity’ amidst recognition, non-fulfillment, guilt, fight and retrospection.
Drowning by the fantasm of light,
crippled by the enigma of conquest,
speculated by the realm of conscience,
clouded by the disguise of embellishment,
I’m dying at the hands of my own accomplishment.
Why? I never proposed,
why subjugated by my own artillery,
why dismantled by mere scruples,
why my attainment is not fulfillment,
the rebuke he shows, a look in the mirror.
Eyes altering color, red with disgrace,
deprived of slumber, bumping, changing bed side,
mind in concussion, biting life’s ties,
neediness to cut it back right,
but pride on the line, I retrace the guilty line.T
The clock’s buzzing blue,
mind in panic, no clue, how to?
campaigning against my conscience,
fighting back, to cover exhibiting remorse,
‘deal with it’, he said again, a look in the mirror.
The final act upon me,
the urgency got right, of me, gratefully,
stood up from the desecrated ashes,
of thoughts that enamored my choices,
looked at him, tranquility ceased him, and I walked away.