A dry leaf.

 

I was walking on the road

Rough and dirty

Water spilled over its texture

Dry leaves of trees dancing below my shoes

I was on my way to work

Hearing the dumbest people talking shit

Is what I call work

Noises of vehicles rambling in my ears

Disturbing the thoughts

The sadness of seeing the dry leaves

Was occupying the thoughts

But dry leaves make way for wet green leaves

This is the cycle

Everyone has to move

I am also moving

Crushing those leaves

It doesn’t matter what you do with them

They are dead

You can bury them

Or burn them

Or crush them with your shoes

They will not fight or argue

I keep thinking

And finally, reach my workplace

The mind is still involved with the pain

Of those dry leaves

I forgot my own pain

My life, my work

Nobody gives a shit

Nobody is noticing

But I think I am turning into a dry leaf.

6 thoughts on “A dry leaf.”

  1. As Cristian said, this is a very emotive poem. ‘Hearing the dumbest people talking shit’ I really like this line as one is thinking of it on the way to work. I take public transport to work often and sometimes I really don’t want to hear what others are saying. And yeah, sometimes at work nobody gives a shit because you are just another face there to do the work and someone who can be replaced. Very deep stuff and you are a great writer, Shreyans 🙂

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