Why do I do what I do?
Is there a way I could do it the other way?
Why did I do what I did?
Was there a way I could’ve done it other way?
These questions keep me awake
I don’t know if it’s insomnia
or just these random & endless thoughts
How do i diagnose?
Every night I visit I’m somewhere
I could have been
but failed to be at
because the road was too tough
I had to jump off the roof
just to land on another
& do that all over again
Some nights I’m sleeping sound
in the lap of my lover
whom I’ve never saw
other nights I see us making love
where tomorrow refuses to rise
and we keep falling for each other
Then there is this nothingness
the realisation of this facade
the meaninglessness of everything
makes me helpless
even doubt existence of each & every thing
myself the most
So I keep wondering about all the whys
how different the world would’ve been
if there was no me in it
if I hadn’t done what I’ve done
if I hadn’t written this poem
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