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December 09, 2024

Mornings

By Bharti Bansal

Mornings

The morning screams like a little child
Hungry for food
Crawling its way through the night
It sleeps right next to me
With its tiny hands on my wrist
As if scared to let me go
But do mothers ever feel disdain towards their children
I wake up
Drawing the curtains apart
And the fatherly sunrays fall on little morning's face
Making it squint its eyes
Yawning, it crawls off the bed
And falls face first
For it still hasn't got comfortable walking in a depressed girl's room
It sits there waiting for breakfast
Along with the girl
The entire room smells like ending
A graveyard really
As the girl forces herself to get up
And feed both morning and herself
While girl hates the morning
The light of new beginning seeps into her body
Like an earthworm burrowing earth
To make its home inside
This girl has no friend
Nobody calls her to wake her up
So the morning sings the song of alarm bells
And the angry girl throws it off
The mobile phone
It has been so long
Since the girl smiled at the morning skies
Or thanked heavens for another day of breathing without effort
The girl doesn't pay attention to the gratitude around
Floating like debris in flood
The world doesn't pay attention to the girl
So the morning and girl have turned bitter
Like the coffee that waits for her on the dining table
Slowly getting lukewarm, almost cold
With the absence of warmth in the room
The girl and the morning now sit on the bathroom floor
Crying
As night seeps slowly towards her legs
And settles at the pit of her stomach
The girl is sad to begin her hopeless day once again
As the morning slowly leaves her room
Through the nearby window
From which the girl has thought about jumping off so many times
The morning dies at the hand of an ignorant girl
Who couldn't care less about anyone around
Let alone herself
The room is covered with dark clouds
It's going to rain once again
Drenching the girl with her loneliness
Today she is underwater
Trying to stop her breaths
And prevent her hands from saving herself
She doesn't know how to swim or drown either
But she has found a welcoming cavern of hopelessness
She moves towards death slowly
While world munches down on its breakfast
It is a good "mourn"ing






Article © Bharti Bansal. All rights reserved.
Published on 2022-01-17
Image(s) are public domain.
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