Season of actions is over.

Segments of story are now penned.

The plot which was supposed to be clever

is now hard to even comprehend

even for the writer.

An ending which was thought of from the start,

now does not make sense,

as if the story took over in itself

like it was the writer and the writer had to pretend.

Next chapter is now unclear,

and so is the story’s moral.

Maybe this is what births fear.

Strangely unfair and terrible

that the thing which cripples,

in no ways can be controlled.

Time and again it comes back as ripples

and writes the story to be told.

Posted by

An engineer who finds joy, comfort and peace by writing poems and strumming chords. Come, let me take you to an alternate reality.

8 thoughts on “Dangling

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