Friday, 11 October 2013


My room is a mess, always. No matter which day of the year you would visit me, chances are you won't get any space to sit. Books, clothes, bags, papers, you name it! Eventually you learn to live with that mess, and you become comfortable in that. How many times do we do the same with our lives?

In that mediocrity,
Did she find her answers.
When the time came so.

When the room was upturned
Books astray on the bed
Not a single piece of cloth
In its place.

The turmoil, the angst,
The frustrated cry,
Of things and people alike.

Papers flung around.
The stereo on the ground.
Her room, much like her heart,
Was a mess.

She began to keep things back,
In the place they belonged.
It wasn't that difficult.
She would see.

But till then the pieces,
Had grown on her so.
She sat back with a sigh,
Of relief.

Image courtesy: My messy room :)

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