I see the mundane; I see the same
the lame, the tame, the pain, the fame
I see it all; I see the pain
Just like you
but I get carried away
Then, days that pass, some I hope to last
some, I hope they carry the grey
away, as far as possible
I pretend to pray
on delusional ecstasy
these days, that’s how I run away
from reality
I pray, I pray, I pray
In fear, in joy, in love, in hate
then I stumble upon this feeling
in my brain
I doubt the pain
it’s all too same
It’s all too simple, too well laid
It’s too given, no need to use
the chemicals in your brain
It’s all too sane, don’t complain
I doubt this matrix of lies and snakes
the games, the names, the stakes, the names
I doubt the takes they present to tame
their finite audience
how us all end all the same
What a shame!
***
Madras Courier originally ran as a broadsheet with a poetry section. It was a time when readers felt comfortable sharing glimpses of their lives through verse. If you have a poem you’d like to submit, do email us at [email protected].
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