Smoke Poem by Vivek Haldar

smoking the last one of the day,
i sometimes wonder,
what i have become,
is that what i wanted to be,
i count my days on this blue earth,
and keep taking a puff,
thoughts terrorizing the dreams,
and yet they are so mean,
soul still remains there wayward and broken,
and yet you remain there noisy and cosy,
tears come by and ultimately they dry,
as there will be no one in order to cry,
lying on the cold floor,
i sometimes squeak,
but the voice quivers,
and everything i do comes to a screech,
just think that have i been broken,
or is it that the breath line is taken,
as you lay in someone's arms,
and yet there is no one in order to feel your charm,
just be with no one in order to pray,
as life is nothing but a blot of grey,
find yourself something in order to play upon,
and yet they can gamble in a zeal of their own,
where do you stand?
you don't have an answer to speak upon,
and yet you form puzzles of your own,
try getting deeper and else you can see,
a whole little droplets of the dead blue sea,
catch upon and you wanted to fly,
but you left your dreams quivering by,
Ha! at last there you go,
and find yourself sitting on a dead board of snow,
leading you nowhere but into the death tunnel,
and find yourself getting a pinch out of your own,
Get a life and you will see,
Life full of praises and words of the thee,
You find yourself sitting alone,
and the fire in you has caught the snow,
Talk to the wind and there you fly,
when someone comes to you and finally die,
you just got yourself in a dizzier zone,
and later you realized that you have broken a bone,
sitting on the inner self and there you grow,
Find yourself being given a death blow