A wilting bud

I am an illusion that dreams

Silent, yet unbridled conscious screams

Of ideas lost, and feelings mute

Intact, albeit with a void in pursuit


Feelings punctuated, while chaos persist
To the tunes of melancholy reasons cease
Mired in pretense,in hope faith quivers
With vexed sanity,lay mirth me-a tranquil tryst

Empty eyes on stoic faces, glances I sneak

Incoherent thoughts, their boundaries I tweak

With a smile-plastic, yet smeared with blood

I crawl, a spirit of sweat and mud, a wilting bud