Ranjit Scribbles

The worst nightmare has come true, 
The skies of hope are no longer blue,
As black as a new moon in the deep, 
No light to guide me toward my sleep.

Only one memory brings release, 
The phantom face that grants me peace, 
Peering through the past's locked door into mind, 
Escapes into the canvas from eyes behind

This thought is pleasure, this thought is pain, 
A fragile truce just to sleep again
Projecting a future with what used to be, 
Where I can touch her, care for her, and she is with me.

It puts my restless soul to rest, 
A fleeting balm against my chest, 
Yet with the cruel return of day, 
The hollow deepens, the shadows stay.

Still, I accept it, I numb the pain, 
Though I waste away like a drone in vain, 
I summon her ghost just to fall asleep, 
Only to wake up as an addict and weep.

I am so terrified of failing, 

Exhausted by the heavy feeling. 

Perhaps it is my stubborn ego

 That binds my hands, resisting letting go.

I should have failed a whole lot more, 

To learn what else life has in store

Far beyond the wins and losses, 

And what a fragile pride enforces.

Too perfect in my head, it seems, 

Blinded by my own extremes. 

I lost the truth of who I’ve grown, 

Deceived by walls I’ve built alone.

I need to fail, to start anew, 

To trade the titles for the true. 

No longer bound by win or loss,

 I'll embrace the climb, despite the cost

To be someone who lives the struggle, 

Sisyphus, content and noble.