Sirat-Ul-Mustaqeem

I gave away my telescope
Tis better to live without imagination.
Who knows what the future holds?
Not my mind, not your soul.
Yet they venture into unknown territories
The funny thing is
Trust you put in the Unseen
Chasing that secret being
The reality is
Morbid muse creeps up on you...
Holds you by your collar,
Suffocates you
The funny thing is
You respond with a weak smile
You learn to numb your senses
Indifferent to your being
Floating away into the unseen
Realm of make-believe love
Invented lies
Beneath crusty haggard sorrows.
You scrape up a sugar-sweet verse
And devour it.
Only to find out
The anesthesia wears off…
It disappears, too soon.