The city is haunted
By old memories, old wounds
Every corner, every turns reminds you of better days. When
hanging around in gallis and Chiya pasal made you feel cool and life seemed
that bit sweeter. When you were on cups of life and all that it has to unleash
on your grown up self. Haunted by
nostalgia: the taunting and testing of memories of good old days gone by.
The city is haunted
By familiar face, old acquaintances
Haunted by their judgement, by their perception, shaped by
years of trickle down information that reached them completely and ridiculously
uttered from truth. By their incessant questions, their hunger for dirt, and
unparalleled capability of gossip.
Haunted by the casualties in the game we play. By the
collateral damage in the politics of relationship, where loyalty and alliances
comes in to play. By the irreparable damages of past mistake and the
irreplaceable voids left behind by the people who once filled it.
This city is haunted
Muted scream and quite rage keep people awake at night. We
are always chasing something or its running away. Chasing a favors, a debtor, petrol or gas, a job, a dream,
hands always grasping thin air. And running away form the creditors, landlord, responsibility
and disappointment. Clutching the frayed ends of hope.
We are all haunted by the fear that this could be as good as
it gets; a life at best of sustenance and survival.
We are all haunted by the ghost of broken promises and
bottled resentment. By misplaced priorities, rotting soul, greed and
desperation: by corrupt officials and loan shark, inflated price and deflated
sprits.
This city is haunted
Hunted by the hot headedness of the youth and reckless
aloofness of the old.
No one is safe here. We all have our ghosts.
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