Thoughts seem to be messed up
And words come out confused
The ink refuses to flow on the paper
As all my feelings get abused.
Violence, deceit and a lust for power
Surrounded by other myriad vices
Pessimism hampers breaking those shackles
As I end up entangled in severe crisis.
Winning against the visible enemies
Seems easier to their venoms
But the more I fight, the more I exhaust
By fighting my veiled, inner demons.
Tired of fighting, I crave for a haven
I seek it meticulously by soul searching
I pen down this poem as a last ray of hope
To steady my boat of life from lurching.
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