Dear, Miserable Lives.

Why do we keep searching for sanity long gone?
I ask myself what we hope to find.
Perhaps it’s to that foolish hope we hold on–
The one that plagues us humankind.
Does the soul ever tire of thinking
The same little thing a million times?
To some hopeless slivers we cling
As though for our dear, miserable lives.

What thirst do we seek to quench?
What raging fires don’t die out?
All we’re left with is the reeking stench
Of dead hopes and dreams we forgot about.
How low are we going to stoop?
To what heights are we going to climb?
To some hopeless slivers we cling
As though for our dear, miserable lives.

Oh, to be human and hold on to blind faith!
I wonder if it’s what keeps us going, most days.
The disappointment is crushing and so is fate,
As we stumble our way out of this cruel haze.
A change of pace and maybe some breeze
To free our suffocated, clouded minds,
To some hopeless slivers we cling
As though for our dear, miserable lives.

The same words we end up writing
In hundred tongues, in a thousand ways,
The same sunsets and skies we admire,
The same light we seek on our darkest days.
Fooling our hearts, happy songs we sing,
Through miserable moments, miserable times,
To some hopeless slivers we cling
As though for our dear miserable lives.

~© Shubhangi Srinivasan.


Featured Image by Annie Spratt on Unsplash

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