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Photo by Abhijith P on Unsplash
His days are lacquered in uniform
Without faltering does he perform.
His dreams go parched in that resolute world,
His marooned days vying for the daily bread gets whirled.
The balmy jingle is no more welcoming him in the morning,
His swiftly fading self is in the sour breath of mourning.
His disillusioned self fails to open up his heart,
His exhausted persona makes only himself hurt.
Unmindful of the rivulets of his days and nights,
The new shapeless vortex has devoured his delights.
In that incessant cacophony, he craves for his son
Amidst that endless pain, he loves the newborn a ton.
The wavering ‘network’ turns his face crimson with anger
The ‘hanging’ and ‘disconnecting’ v- calls fill him with languor.
Disheartened and dispirited by his banal entity,
He’s in search of something in intensity.
He lavishes his darling baby, a virtual cuddle
For his affection, the little cherub and the toys huddle.
In the bouts of strenuous monotony, he silently sails
In the shards of loneliness, he withers and wordlessly wails.
( When I tried to weave my Husband’s emotions through words)
Dedicated to Sujeeth, my chivalrous Darcy!
Anvik Baby's Mom/ An Assistant Professor in English/ Author of 'Musings of Venus'/ A Freelance Journalist. Above all, an epic weirdo with an unfading zest for life and its exhilarating/exhausting journeys! read more...
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