I've Started reading my old works
My own literary corpses
From other places, other times
And lives I used to don

I've started meeting my old words
Like those friends forgotten
The ones, that even though have left
Still linger in the niches of my heart

I've started thinking of my past feats
Instead of my present failures
I gaze longingly at this visage of time
To make up for my lost delights

I've started questioning myself
My beliefs, my dreams and me
If I shed this cloak of apathy
What will I really be?

I've started something,  I'm not sure
But it's something unimportant
As it's just for me, my own tryst
But I've started finally.