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Verbose dialogues of a Loser

"Darkness and light exist as dipoles only on the pages of a dictionary."
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The turbulent skies disintegrated into multicolored layers. The parade of unfurling hues enveloped my empty vessel as I lay crouched against the wall in my veranda. My face betrayed a myriad of emotions to the nothingness beside as a crescent smile sliced through my jaw.

My fraction of globe lay damp in the wrath of the skies. Queerly the world seemed to be twitching with a secret sense of joy to me. I watched as my palm lines adorned with garlands of droplets wriggled to break free. The violet veins purged the beating skies lending a shade heavier to every thought and note. I retreated into the never ending recesses of my mind. Memories hurdled past my solemn conscience like angry little soldiers. Chills pricked my spine as my million eyes dispersed in the pools of water bored through me.

The rebuke, the contempt, the curses resonated in the hollow valleys of my heart and a ghastly amalgamation came to life .I pursed my purple lips desperately trying to swallow all the pain but it clawed against my spirit like a raging animal until we both lost our identities in each other. Pungent images of satin streaked wrists stung into my senses like a drug suffusing my entire being. My insides gasped for a moment of life while I stood cold and sober like a statue in the realm of forgone rusty ruins.

Failure is that contemptuous title we all refrain from yet some of us are bestowed with it. It’s that perky little friend of darkness meddling with my otherwise ordinary life. So is my life a wrecked mess of strokes all dark and vile? It’s a question I am reluctant to answer because I’m afraid I might answer in the affirmative for sometimes I wish I could be normal.

Our lives are like notes weaved with a pen and to live be to trail along the syllables and bring them alive on a bunch of strings. The idea of digression would be a synonym to a discordant melody. Freedom has made itself heard time and again .Yet every time it chooses a cloak very peculiar. It threatens to destroy the sense of wellbeing in every fiber of your existence offering you nothing in exchange but an endless pursue.

The wind hummed a familiar song into my ear. My heart shuddered, afraid to give away to that disguised clarion of hope. I looked at my home. Ageless, it held its charisma like a material god waiting to embrace its children in a lullaby of nostalgia.The trees sparkled with a mystical radiance owing to the bounty of pearls breathing on their tentacles. Blooming in the heart of wisdom they stood silent in the drama of my catastrophe.

My eyes wandered helplessly to the rich skies desperate for a sign of hope. It is not my fear to be the face of darkness only that I decipher its true significance. A seed buried deep in the womb of earth understands light only as a deviation from its darkness. Darkness and light exist as dipoles only on the pages of a dictionary .In the span of truth they mingle into each other to lengths extreme where only perspective can pick them apart.

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