THROWBACK

Halting, succumbing in my tracks.
Falling down; widening my cracks.
Approaching September-wind blows the gone distress.
Seems like one heck of a throwback.

The time got stiff; it doesn’t seem to bend.
Failed all my attempts; left with no amendments.
One moment, I’m patient like a tree.
At another, a woodpecker so impatient.

What is constant does even have an end?

The dot, I’m stuck on, teases me.
Nothing that used to please pleases me.
Rotten in my roots, I’m afraid to fallback.
Seems like one heck of a throwback.

It threatens to shatter me; this hasty torrent.
My own brain turned a vitriolic tyrant.
Nothing lasts; this much I know.
But feels like a lifetime, this fleeting moment.

What is constant does even have an end?
Such a pain in the pineal gland.

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– NEKNEERAJ
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