Sometimes I press my palm over my chest
slightly to the left where my heart is
And feel my heartbeats- usual trough and crest
rising and falling without a miss.
Thumping in rhythm with the ticking of clock
just the monotonous tones of life
Same movements everyday- familiar tick tock
Similar sound and pace- Oh both so rife!
I wish the heart gets a battery someday
with a disclaimer that it too shall drain
And with it this life shall drain away
gradually and silently escaping all pain.
Or maybe mix with rain- tears not salty but stark
This moldy existence slowly decaying- almost extinct
Staying alive like a shadow in the dark
that lingers silent and creepy but distinct.
You are there but still you are not
People walk over the shadow without pause.
Never bothering or knowing a jot
whose that shadow was!
Author Bio: Rumy Ghosh writes stories and prose based on emotions and complexities involving them. She feels all the great decisions and great beginning are result of emotions.
