Nervous
By Fiza Pathan
Nervous have I been of late but not mad – well not completely mad.
How could I be mad – I’m the sorrowful poet,
Who can’t sell a piece of poetry
Because of the fear that stalks my path wherever I go.
I’m being followed by a ghost from my past.
It’s a hideous creature with long sharp claws to tear at my flesh,
And a black hood to cover his face.
This creature attacks me when I am asleep.
It strangles my astral body until I wake up in a cold fit.
It drinks my blood like a vampire every night,
Leaving me too weak to pen down my verses in poetry.
I used to love this spectre of terror once but now it haunts me,
Like the devil which haunted Dr. Faustus.
I run away from it in horror but it keeps up with me.
I seem to be insane to you for being afraid of my own past
But, I’m not insane – I’m just nervous.
Save me fellow poets from this demon that possesses me,
Save me from my own destruction.
Obsessive compulsive thoughts make me reach out
For the knife to end it all-but I want to live
I don’t want to wither away.
The beast has been unleashed by my own hands.
Save me from the peril of the dark night.
Voices do I hear during the daytime tempting me
To drown in the sea of delusions.
Nervous have I been of late but not mad – well not completely mad.
Copyright © 2014 by Fiza Pathan
Image courtesy: http://www.morguefile.com/archive/display/867594
IMG_2713.JPGBy pedrojperez
Superb… liked this line the most “But, I’m not insane – I’m just nervous.”