Overtime

There you are, a young man feeling the weight of the world,

on your shoulders instead seeing it in front you

your mind worked overtime to tell you,

after that heartbreak that you were simply not good enough

every single day you single mindedly thought so

and it became so

the songs that you listened to the very day

walking, convening solitude, along the railway

you hated the world and everything its brought along

all you wanted was to exist in a song

for that’s the world where you thought you’d thrive

and for long, you forgot how to truly live

nearly a decade later and the very thoughts crawl

day and night, speaking the same language,

the language that the life on those lonesome walks

walks that you used to berate yourself

telling your own soul how less-than you were

in all walks

existence has become one dreary bore

every single object seems to jeer you

in a fetal curl, you fit yourself in a cocoon,

a less-than kind of cocoon that does not fit anyway

and your dreams poke like tentacles

trying to catch you from drowning

and you don’t. because there are twigs

sometimes, that save you from the grim waters