Petty, Puny, Pompous Mind
- Mahima Ravi
- Aug 31, 2024
- 1 min read
Curtains open,
curtains closed
light through the fabric
leaves me exposed.
Inside I feel a magic
invoked by memories
and I speak unspoken words
of gratitude and whispers of pain.
Pistols of injustice
shot late at night.
I hear it from a continental distance
cut through fresh skin.
A mark of love
for a life that was unkind.
Inspired words that come late at night,
inspired sentences of little might
and inconsequential syllables only performed in my mind,
making me feel like the all-important kind.
Out there, there's a family
who didn't have lunch.
Out there there's a girl
who didn't want to be touched.
Out there there's an animal
who was butchered and overcooked,
and maybe all this is more important
then it looks.
Maybe all this is what I should search and find
so I can fix my petty, puny, pompous mind
and it makes me so angry
that it's the trivial
that I find, hurts me the most.
Image credits: https://in.pinterest.com/pin/8373949280190433/
