When all are gone,
You want to mourn.
Being recluse is like a curse,
Not even treated by a beautiful nurse.
Damn, they all are gone,
Want their clothes to be torn.
Did a mistake staying back,
Now, agonized and want to attack.
Holidays would surely turn bore,
Making the eyes red and sore.
Why didn’t I go home?
Want to push someone from the dome.
The mental balance is disrupted,
Wrath is just controlled to be erupted.
Smiling is turning into a delusion,
Trying to keep smile and happiness’ fusion.
Tried to write my feelings,
But that’s not the way of healing.
I miss my place,
But I’m just walking in daze.
Left with a laptop and movie,
And all think, it is groovy.
It’s a hell of a nightmare,
As if no one dares to care.
Yet, this is the start,
So, it’s better to roam around mart.
But, I miss my home,
Hell I can’t do anything except roam.
And, as all are gone,
I seriously want their clothes to be torn.
