The Corridors

Silence encompasses my mind and blankets my thoughts,
The corridors speaks the same language as my mind.


Heart thumping fast and the breathing goes high,
The masks tend to make you feel breathless and there is a sad sigh.


You hear your thoughts slowly become concoted,
even the real imagination is a hoax.


A sudden breeze of unwavering thoughts come flooding in,
Traumatized and parched a blot of a sanguine appears.


Palpitations are not so tenacious at this time of rumination,
The sanguine blot lessens the pain analogously.


Suddenly the corridor is filled with people and the mind with utopia,
The blanketed thoughts slowly open up to the new horizons and possibilities.


Some thoughts still stay at some part of my head trying to figure out the why’s of things,
The corridor undeniably speaks the language of the ones who are lost and the ones who have found themselves.

Until next time,
live…love…breathe & wear your masks.

Aishwarya Mane

Published by Aishwarya Mane

Obstinate Reader...Petulant writer #Caffeine habitué #Carpediem www.instagram.com/ashminirature

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