Survival instincts.

What do you call survival?
Surviving a plane crash?
Sparring alive from a blast?
No. None of these.

An Unidentified labyrinth,
You seems to have stuck Unto,
An Audience in the air,
And you screeching for help.

They keep on starring,
And you are scared to death,
You give up hope and scratch your head,
‘I need an Out’, you whisper to yourself.

You stop at an open out,
A breathe in,
Closing the eyes,
You Jump in for it.

On and on you fall,
You open your eyes,
The Abyss is your fear,
You close your eyes again.

There is darkness all around,
You are scratching those purple walls,
The sounds are killing you,
But the enemy is you.

On and on you go,
Nothing to soothe you,
You hide under the quilts,
Finding your escape in your sleep.

But when the sun next shines,
You hold on Tight,
To all That inside of you,
And try to move with the outside world.

The thoughts still cross your head,
To do it once and for all,
But you dismiss the thought,
Because you want to survive the storm.


-Naba Mehdi.

7 thoughts on “Survival instincts.

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