Ending up at the same crossroads, the fool thinks that new beginnings and planning
would be an exit to this maze of endless throe.
Identical pattern of event and feeling pops
spreading like an incurable epidemic.
Fine line between
blissful paradise and emotional turmoil
is just
a flip
of
switch away.
Like a simple drop of oil pastel on water based paint
spreads uncontrollably in the canvas of thoughts,
ruining chronological frames that he wish he didn’t.
Passion that incinerates like wild fire
burns off faster than glowing coals.
Incomplete fragment of errands squeezes the sponge dry in exhaustion.
A legacy is incomplete because of the challenge it face
or was it deteriorated by delaying reasons?
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