Fiction

Numbness redefines itself…
Ask the snow its legend,
Read the eyes of the bedridden,
And if you still seek a reply,
Come to me

My story may not be any different
From my next door neighbor,
It has a plot,
A beginning,
A climax and an anti climax too,
And then its ends,
Without a full stop

I may try a riddle next life,
They are hard to end,
And don’t need a full stop

Red, yellow, green
Are the same to me sometimes,
Am I colour blind
Or disillusioned from light?

I wear the same face everyday,
But the eyes who once beheld me
Cannot see it at night

They will one day…
When my author will put
A beautiful epilogue before
The final dot

Until then incompleteness
Serves as the antonym
Of perfection