How do I keep alive?
Everyday smile and revive?
How do the pale shreds of my broken heart
Feed the rest of my decimated parts?
How am I able to see the light?
How do I keep up the fight?
How do I muffle the animal-like shrieks that
arise from the dark well of my chest all day long?
How do I carry on?
How does the Earth like a whirling-dervish go round and round?
Can it not hear my heart-rending sound?
How does the Sun go on beaming round the clock?
Does it not feel the massive shock?
How does Time trundle on?
While Saagar is forever gone?
How does the air in cycles turn to breath?
In and out, in and out, in and out to death?
This must not be me.
It must be Act Three.
The playwright’s script,
Dictating entry and exit.
The stage-set and the screenplay,
The pause and what actors do or say.
This must be the way.
I must be one amongst many in the play.