Exhausted and Spent

the air smelled nicotine

the environ rhythmed with fan

the room, lorn one, curtained dimmed.

I lay looking at the ceiling

the fan with flying curtain creating a shade

a mixture of colors of wall, street and–

overcast May sky.

I’m here, but, I’m really here…

the moment, the silence that I lay in

is truth I think, but, am I not misfit…

am I not the piece of puzzle–

that cannot be fit…

loneliness echo, solitude laugh

my depressed soul–tired one–

thinking what can be done

shall I howl and wet my pillow with tears

or shall I lie naked and satiate self…


all clogging me…all strangling me…

the walls is getting me…



Author: Sangbad

A published poet. Avid Reader. Favorite authors (few) are Satyajit Ray, Saradindu Bandyopadhyay, Bankim Ch. Chatterjee, Jhumpa Lahiri, O. Henry, Gabriel Garcia Marquez, etc. Music lovers. Love to hear Rabrinda Sangeet, Anjan Dutt, Enrique Iglesias, Mozart & Beethoven (though can't say which is who's symphony). Dislike to get clicked. Love to be self (introvert).

41 thoughts on “Exhausted and Spent”

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