Boring.Inc
As the sun goes on burning through the days Self-imprisoned in our so-called hostel room, Suffocated, of heat, stink, and cigarette smoke, of the roaring traffic, and chaotic class mates, of the ever increasing assignments of studies, And of a million responsibilities and expectations; Numerous ideas graze through my mind, of escape. Empty thoughts screech past my ears, aloud, vibrant making themselves aloud, waking me up to the void I am in; where neither my mates stand, nor my dreams I head up to my roof, feel the air, the sky, vast; and see stars, few, and clouds all broken to pieces Something seems imperfect, why is the breeze not smooth? Why is the white cloud home to such imperfections? Something feels incomplete, empty from within, And then- I miss the moments- with you, priceless, You, who were a friend when I needed to lean on; You, who were a family when I needed to talk it out; You, the roads where I roamed about, unseen, unfazed; You, the big old desktop with games and movi...