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Writer : Madhu Khatiwada[/caption]
I was in my intimate thought when a bike's continuous horn became successful in acquitting it.
Now my legs no longer obey my eyes.
My eyes, oh! where's the gold? May be she left a while ago when I was on my own thought.
I'm again moving on my pace, with the same face on my head, the girl of my age.
My age!
I'm not sure of my age but the girl looked on her mid teenage and right now she might be lying her parents why she's late..
Everyone seems to be in hurry, street lights are dyeing the face jaundice, people are hanging on the jammed bus and horns are piercing the ear.
This road is my destination, I'm bimbling because there's no one waiting me back home, no parents, no family.
It would be more convenient if I say because I have nowhere to go.
But who will answer me the time, everyone are busy on their own.
This question reminds me of that coffee, I wish I had that. Rich children never care for food.
It's December, but explaining it's cold wont make me feel warm.
Let me take some rest. I'm tired of talking to myself, walking alone. Not alone actually, walking with myself.
Edge? Yes, this edge of footpath, I can take a nap here.
But it's full of garbage.
So what if it's garbage here, I´m used to this offensive smell, the dust and the noise.
I can't talk to myself anymore...
I'm tired like hell, tired of life...
tired of being optimistic...
Hope I feel the warm sun the following day...
