I feel like a withered feather
Lost and powerless
On the verge of giving up all the worldly sins
I try to hold on to the fragments of my personality
The good side mostly
At least that is what I think it is
I revisit the good days
And remind myself of what I used to be
All that remains now is meekness
It troubles me greatly
I sit and ponder in wonder
How human interaction can be so taxing
The constant battle that goes on inside of my head
About all the things that go on around me
The politics of relationships
Is quite murky than the actual one
I try to rise above the feelings of worthlessness
And give myself a chance
But how hard is it for others to understand
That sometimes I feel like a withered feather
And I would like to be myself after all.
~Mudra Chavan
Mumbai, India
Very nice and touching poem
Peace
It’s time to resuscitate the bloom and be withered no more! Great poem.