Loop

By Jagruti Bagh

Walking out of slumber, I gawk. 

Face twisted in despondency, blinks.

I lunge at the day and remember the hue.

Otherwise vibrant, 

Marred by the iteration of reality blue.

Made spiritless by the curse of duplication.

I gawk at that inevitable maze way.

That monotonous song 

Of every other twinning day.

I give a not-so-resolute sigh

While devising the mapwork of my Existense. Ample forethought

Being the sculptors.

Sufficiently aware that its twigs are to crumble.

Because, they always have.

That's the destiny they were born with.

Being my shackled self the very smith.

Invisible shackles, discreet but burly.

I can't seem to trace their dawn.

Nor the design. 

Incomprehensible and curly.

They hurl me into a coiling stir.

A loop of fatiguing blur.

A loop in appearance, so endless.

So dreary.

A loop, with no built-in-escape.

I am immobile.

No matter how many sanguine steps I take.

By Jagruti Bagh