Piles of homework
Leftover notes
Late classes
Tired eyes.

And I go on typing...

Exams and routine
Running and yelling
Pushing back my eternal comforts
Into an abyss
I go on working...

I sleep. I sleep like a sloth
Never caring about time
I dream like a jobless whore
Never learning what is life
I write notes like a pessimistic mind
Never realising miracles exist.

How would I?

For two years back, at the age of 16
A dream broke.

For the good, though.

But with it came the hope of better
Of being the owner of a perception sharper
And more justified.

But am I still not correct?
Or are miracles really non-existent?

Because, as I see, all the others happy
I live in a crowd with smiling and ambitious souls
Souls whose life is on a path perfect
And I wonder, who am I even?

For I am lost. Lost in a maze
Where there is no divine intervention
Yet...it lurks somewhere...but I can't feel with confidence.

I had wished to be a part of a storm–
Where there will only be mystery and being lost
And then, suddenly, will come a Messiah in form of love
And then will come everything else, to make my life a place to live for.

But now...I wonder...what if this storm is eternal?
What if even when people write in the comments
That all will be well
It will actually, be never the same?

I hope it is not the same
Yet I also hope it is better than before.

Will things be better?
I have so much now
Friends, food, a goal and books
But what is a goal without permanency?

What is life without the promise of love?

What are memories and signs if they don't culminate into love?

At the end, I feel lost and alone.