Bereft from the identity accorded to myself,
I slowly dissolve in the middle of the night,
As waves of malign sincerity infest me,
I keep my eyes shut,
And clench my wrists over the sheets drenched with my sweat,
Rarely and remotely my body derives a mind of its own,
For it behaves in manners strange to me,
I see clouds in my room,
And valleys over my head,
I slowly dissolve into an oblivion,
As something vicious pulls me down,
That doesn’t come to me in the day,
But as the day sets and moon knocks on my door,
It becomes a part of me,
Something necessary, like the saint who needs his daily whiskey,
I close my eyes and shut them with my bare hands,
Maybe sleep will make it better…………….?

Nice one Harsh!🤩
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Great poem Harsh…. yes sleep or a girl.. it sounds like both are needed..
💖🤔
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