When the hours get slow, and the voices go low,
The time of the night when the humdrum tends to go;
I lie awake in bed, and thoughts begin to cloud my mind,
The future goes at a scary pace; the past gets stuck in a rewind;
It is in these times I find no one but myself to converse with,
So I ponder over a million things, and it starts to get a little turbid;
Now I find dimmed lights and the radio plays old tracks,
Looking in the corridors and staring across the room, I see lost souls and turned backs;
It is now I feel the poet in me rise and come out of its scabbard,
Or if stated more humbly I turn into a mighty poor and morose bard;
I write to express myself, justify my own actions and thoughts,
Let the drunken ghoul come out of its attic at the back of my mind, where it stinks and rots;
It is the ghoul which had been a silent spectator to all my lies and all my pains,
He knows where I faltered and where I got selfish to amplify my gains;
He laughs and curses, and realizes me where I sinned,
Burns a hole through my soul, to the bottom of my heart I am pinned;
Its voice leaks out from the crevices my mind has forever tried to mend,
The truth always oozes out through the voices of family, friends and fiends;
So I write to be free, I write to become pure,
I write till I drop or till the heart goes sour;
The mind says I am vindicated, I am selfless and one thing is for sure,
I am the victim, not the criminal, a million pains I had to endure;
I should let go of these memories and forget my ordeal,
The past is misty, the future’s foggy, and the present I must feel;
I must make amends to the corners in the past I broke,
Smoothening the edges, to this dust I must never choke;
For I better future I should work, the lessons from the past I must learn,
Never must I trip again where I have passed, never must I crash and burn;
Tread carefully all the while; never should I ever stagger,
Falling is not an option now, half my life I have traversed now, rest half is on my platter;
Lying silent, staring at ceilings, crying in vain, I should end,
Having seen the changing shadows on the wall, I now know every changing trend;
Time goes by slowly in the night; it’s like a tunnel with no water and no bends,
I have many a queries to ask, but I don’t know to whom these mysteries I should send;
The night gets mystical, the starts and the moon make a mighty blend,
Maybe that’s the why the galaxy is called the Milky Way, maybe everything is Godsend;
Hey!!! But I don’t believe in God, that’s what I’ve always said,
But that’s when I use the word God, and then I start to dread;
I must believe in him, a mighty, imaginary, divine power,
My friend tells me it is all scientific, he is the energy in every particle and in every star;
But I know God is like ghosts, a figment of imagination, a scare to the kids and hope to all,
A good guy at heart, but in a tough spot where everyone he must enthrall;
And here I find all my answers, so here is my withdrawal,
I write to satisfy my whims and fancies, so satisfied here I must stall;
I am the one who had gained knowledge from this untidy scrawl,
I declare myself the winner and end this friendly brawl;
The ink bottle I now close, and roll up the scroll,
And now I sit up in bed and ponder, a poem came out of this all;
******* it!!! I can’t believe it, a stupid poem came out of this all!!!!!!