The little Big Fight

it creeps up on me
as slimy as ever,
i writhe in its touch
entangled in its gossamer,
then it pops up a question:
“when will you, my dear?”

i jostle around
in my wonderland surreal,
juggling the question
not believing i’m in peril
i pretend to have not heard –
the omen that is now so real

the writing is etched on the wall
its naked elements exposed
i give it one last shot
perhaps it is all I’ve got
alas! the will is lost in vain…
and my conscience wins again!

P.S: every morning my conscience teases me – wake up at 6, huh?

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