I had left the door ajar to let it come,
A known yet obscure feeling stood,
With its naturally vicious and cunning grin,
Ready to put me to test yet again,
With its vicious and crafty schemes.
I question, like I always do, albeit curiously,
For I did not expect its presence today.
In contrast to most days, I didn’t lament on my decisions,
I did admirably, battling for my prestige.
Be it up against my own chum,
At this stage, intimacy holds little importance,
Right now, I can trust no one.
An eerie silence surrounds me,
I trace the contour of my epidermis,
Unusually warm, as if I have bellowed.
My pupils are the first to give in,
Shredding its feebleness into life.
Pacing downwards, but slothful for me,
His machination is impeccable.
I succumb to it, as I look upon myself,
Compelled to question, yet again.
Whether it is my pride or bigot,
For which I am now,
Mourning this irrevocable loss.
It has now slipped, cunningly moving on,
“Melancholy,” I sigh.
Written by Rishi Kant for MTTN
Feature Image by Sreeja for MTTN