On a Dusty Road

On a dusty, hot black road, I wipe a tear from my face With the smell of loneliness. Sleepless nights, Days without work, I greet the evening with The smoke of nicotine in my eyes. A bag of emotions falls into the Narmada or a manhole, A familiar voice with a terrifying laugh, "How are you?" How am I? I'm a paradox, A contradiction of emotions I'm strong and weak, Brave and afraid. Hopeful and hopeless. I'm a symphony of scars, A mosaic of broken dreams. I'm a survivor of storms, A warrior of pain. I'm a seeker of truth, A dreamer of impossible dreams. I'm a lover of life, Even in the midst of darkness. I'm a work in progress, A journey unfolding. I'm a human being, With all the flaws and Imperfections that come with it. So how am I? I'm alive. I'm alive on this dusty road, With my bag of emotions in hand. I'm alive, and I'm not giving up. I'm breathing. I'm feeling, I'm loving, I'm living I'm here.