What If...

By Gaurangi Puradkar

What if I was the stone

who stares at everyone every day,

with a crooked desire to slap that damn failure,

who always walks the same road of sanity

and wake them up from this illusion,

where they have to jump from one reality to another,

surfing their way to find the better version of themselves, 

and give their worst selves a chance

to smile back with their tears falling on the wet sand,

to fall back again in that mole of longingness,

to crawl back with the desire of tasting the same sets of fights and froths,

could I be the time which never seeks to go back and tells the future to be on hold?

I think I had rather be the present, carrying the burden of perishing yesteryears

to spend the night with the sky showing me the same stern look of vile strangeness,

lying awake with the darkness, slowly getting inside, mingling with the shades of dark parades

I listen to the voice struggling to catch the blues, strumming the strings with weird chords

I try to catch the bridge, but once again I missed to tune the chorus

Will the gods come on me now just because I cried the wrong lyrics of my venture?

By Gaurangi Puradkar