Desperate eyes search the sky in hope,
A stupor steals over…
A rush of air releases in a sigh,
While oblivious to the inner turmoil,
Out the window, the world walks by.
Frantic hands, yank out clumps of hair,
As even the scars on the table morph and rise.
The easy road beckons, as it takes the plunge,
With doubtful, shifty eyes.
A bottomless pit of surprises gone to waste.
This easy solution, drained the well,
And hit the base.
Author’s Note: The poem talks about the dilemma of the architect, the urge to copy and the feeling of guilt that comes along with it. Also it tries to bring to light the enormous waste of content, of knowledge, defying one’s own spirit when plagiarism feels like – ‘the easy way out’.
