My eyes are numb, I’m feeling so dumb.
Nights I don’t sleep, morning sleep is much deep.
My situation seems pity, with thoughts much bitty.
So lazy I’ve become, just remembering how I used to be firm.
Cramps visit my arm, disturbing my charm.
My mouth vomits blood, on the green grassy mud.
My head always ache, mind is full of cache.
But still, my pen opts to write, keeping me alive to fight.
For my past happiness, my life now pays.
As to keep myself alive, I’m struggling these days.
Copyright © Harsh Mistry | Year Posted 2019
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