Hostage To My Own Inertia

In the world of friendly strangers...

Often we are victim to ignorant dangers...

We sulk back and wonder what next,

Stuck between apprehensions and moment changers...

Alas! I am a hostage to my own inertia.

 

Faces when I see, and those eyes that wait...

I ask myself if they speak or interrogate...

My state of mind puts a word of caution;

In my ears unknown voices reverberate...

Still I am a hostage to my own inertia.

 

This world isn't a white wash on the walls...

It is vivid, different people, differently enthralls...

My perceptions are vague and so are my thoughts;

Introspection and a change of mind it calls...

Oh! I am a hostage to my own inertia.

 

The rush of sound and the walls leap into dark...

Music rhythmic and some souls left a mark...

Light attributes pushing the dark themes to vanish,

This world isn't stranger but an artistic park...

Yet I am a hostage to my inertia.

 

I wait to free myself from my own imposition...

Feel acquainted, dissolved and an acclimatisation...

Among the friendly stranger world,

That's oriented, and grounded at its position.

I wait to break the shackles of my inertia.

DiffidenceNo changeself-confidence

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Real Is Rare ►

Comments

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Martin Elder

Fri 5th Jul 2019 08:46

Some very trues words written here

Nice one

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