Charu Sharma – An urge to fly
We break against the dirt of the ground
with the loudest thud,
it’s there for everyone to hear
it’s there for everyone to see.
A glass pane put back together
from its broken shards
isn’t as transparent;
you can trace the deep grayish sadness
running along the long lines of its cracks,
just on the brink of turning entirely opaque.
Under my navel
runs a deep chasm,
my voice has always gotten lost
in its depth;
the door to my room left slightly ajar
just to remind me
that there is a way out
from this all consuming Dark.
This place is whimsical,
sometimes I am asphyxiated
while at others, I somehow catch a
whiff of breath.
Monotony in the constant murmurs,
a sign of commotion
yet it feels so soul less;
I am surrounded mostly by blinds,
strictly confined in their designated
row number on a particular column,
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