The roof leaks, I drenched in the droplets
The unwashed smelly pile of clothes concealing things beneath
Disability creeps in, disability of the flow
The limp routine keeping me low
And I ask to myself: am
I waiting for a decision to be made?
Waking up in the middle of the night
Looking at the switched on bright light
Hoping that the life is just another dream.
Am I the concocted one or a mere accident?
am I love or it’s just a word I hear?
I didn’t ask the roses to smell sweet for me,
I didn’t ask to bear thorns too.
Is the end a destiny pre nurtured?
Or I owe this existence to the end?
No I don’t for I didn’t ask for it,
Not my life, not my body, not my end.
But I still wait for a decision to be made.
