A Forbidden Date

table

The below piece is about my date with my solitude, my raw mind, my own self.
Solitude is personified.

All ready and prepared for the approaching moment,
I arrive for the meeting, at the dinner table.
Keeping aside all fears, the stories I heard,
About the dangers of Solitude, and isolation fables.

After much contemplation and debates done,
I sit, hesitating and shrugging a bit.
Having made up my mind, I tell myself-
“A thing goes wrong and I may quit.”

A strange silence prevails for a couple of minutes,
And then we begin to sort things out,
My solitude sits there with hands folded,
While I ask, “Tell me what the mess is about.”

It replies after a minute of thought,
With an evil smile adorning its face,
“You created your own character,
I only added a bit of haze”.

Those words were deep, I begged to enquire,
But Solitude as ever, played with my concern.
It twisted the topic, it mocked my mind,
Abusing my patience as I waited my turn.

There was more to this, as It had planned,
It was now the time for our date feast,
To stay? To quit? To ask? To hear?
I wondered, sitting with my beast.

With a cold heart, it set my plate,
“It’s laced with chaos”, I would think.
It fed me spoons of vicious thoughts,
It left no space for me to blink.

It took some strength to limit its force,
But then, the drink to quench my thirst?
It served me glasses of spiteful hate,
Insisting again, “You taste it first”.

Paranoid to reality, too down to stand,
Intoxicated with criticism and doubts akin,
I somehow leave the table and walk out on It,
And even a date with my self was a dangerous sin.

 

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