By Sabhyata Ravjani
My fickle mind,
always such a hurdle in the way.
A potent reminder
of the uncertainty of this existence.
The potentially haunting decisions
combined together to form the Tumbling Tower.
My fickle mind,
the intangible foe.
Do I, at last, decide what befalls me
or has my fickle mind taken over?
Likely, unlikely;
a moment I am in great awe
the next, I despise.
Reproach me, for I am to blame
for I feel the remorse all in my veins
for the dislike.
Need I remind myself,
never a one is perfect.
Find me brooding over the probability
of whether I am capable of loving any living soul.
I beg to differ
for hate and love could very much be selfsame.
My fickle mind
and the path that drives me along
into and through the gates of life.
As is known for its ups and downs
yet, has never been so prominently bumpy.
Oh, I wonder
be it hell or heaven,
when will this undetectable journey be over.
My fickle mind,
the great perhaps
a game of chess,
for I cannot decipher which chessman I am chosen as.
Do I die living this life?
Oh, it has hit me
For, I am life.
By Sabhyata Ravjani
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