White Flag

Sometimes,
As I lay my hurting head
On the pillow-
And let loose my locks.
I ponder about the travesty of tryst.
Worry creases the brow,
As eyes glisten with the fate unwarranted.
Is it all worth the ride?
Staring at the hopeless mortars
Of the crumbled wall-
Where my soul met with its dead end.
Pieces of grey and soot-
With minced bricks,
Pierce senses into an unpleasant lull.
Sometimes,
I let my eyes overlook
The debris.
As I find a new spot in the wall-
To focus energies on.
Yearning for some fortified hope-
With pearls of positivity,
That seems so elusive today.
Wonder what's the happy giggle like-
Which was aplenty when young.
As the years pass,
And the moments melt into nothingness-
Life seems unproductive and jargon-laded.
Potholes and pool,
Where infest the evil,
Stare with their mouths open,
Tempting the great fall.
I let my mind-
Forcible wander-
To other planes where perhaps colors reign.
Lose myself in my own spasms of Moksha,
Which I summon to end the greys.
For I cannot always choose the middle path
To walk on as life passes me by.
I must select a time for the end-
Which must bring peace to this fever.
I cannot always let my ego be hassled,
When the id only plays second fiddle,
Trust caressed and shattered by the other shadow-
As panes of a known face seem strange.
I raise my hands-
Wave the white flag-
Of surrender and serenity-
My mind thirsts for a burst of Nirvana -
A callous indifference to all deeds.