The Apostle Of Survival

Hunting down this feeling,

Of not being enough,

Where does this come from?

Or why does it even erupt?

Sleepless nights, 

All blurred in my sight,

Crescents of darkness beneath eyes, 

Chasing my own shadow in the light.

Tracking this nemesis,

Is a daunting task,

"Why haven't I got hold of it?"

I often ask.

Pages after pages,

Of inking down,

Emotional turmoil,

On baseless grounds.

"Breathe", they say,

With sympathetic eyes,

And clueless faces,

But how they forget to mention.

Living in the abstract,

Breathing the air,

Yet I resonate more,

With a long-lost land's heir.

Fantasies, my soothing balm,

Dreams, broken and sham,

But all they have to offer,

Is the ill-fitted "be calm."

But at the very end,

When the world slips into,

The apostle of survival, I can finally see,

The light beyond the horizon.