3/11 spectre

the mind is a strange thing, needing to be replenished every now and then with fresh sprinkles of hope and sparks of passion in order to survive.
bleak hopelessness overpowers souls with every passing wave of time.
I have become a grave of my once youthful energetic self- there was a time when I felt invincible, overflowing with ideas and illusions of how I would shine.
and now all that is left are doubts.
strangers look to me, polite smiles in place, and ask about life plans and goals.
I fear my own answer, and have chosen the path of 'figuring out life' with a silly smile to numb the overwhelming feeling of failure.
time races past my struggling self,
with each passing tide I struggle to make sense of all that I am and all that I wish to be.
there's still a flickering warmth inside, awakened once a while by well wishers who see me as more that what I seem,
they once saw the light in me, and even now strain their eyes to catch a glimpse again.

I flip through photographs, hoping for a peek at a spectre of my illustrious self, before all the self doubts and worries sneaked in their ugly selves and darkened my heart.

Comments

  1. I am extremely impressed along with your writing abilities, Thanks for this great share.

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